


Colors

by keelywolfe



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, M/M, Pseudo-History, Sexual Harassment, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, papcest - Freeform, the village au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2019-07-08 07:56:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15926174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: An AU based on 'The Village', Rus knows he shouldn't be in the woods.(If you've never seen The Village, I think it would be enough to know that the villagers live in an isolated community surrounded by a forest. The woods are forbidden as Monsters are rumored to live in it and any shade of the color red is forbidden as it supposedly attracts them. Thus, Rus shouldn't be in the woods, but the forbidden can be oh, so attractive, can't it.)





	1. Crimson

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely based on cheapbourbon's The Village AU.
> 
> Their artwork for this is compelling and gorgeous and inspiring.   
>   [ Check it out here](http://cheapbourbon.tumblr.com/post/174314586879/the-village-au-aka-when-you-find-out-the)  
>    
>  [ And here!](http://cheapbourbon.tumblr.com/post/176645839239/oh-the-secrets-that-we-keep)
> 
> Please let them know you love the art! This started as a drabble and grew legs, so please enjoy!

* * *

 

This was probably what insanity felt like.

Rus leaned his forehead against the rough bark of the tree, taking a deep, quivering breath, another, trying to stay calm while the forest seemed to press in around him.

He shouldn’t be here.

Just like he shouldn’t have been here last week and if he hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have seen it, the creature. Dressed in the forbidden color, the face and fangs of a wolf looking at him and…

Rus had been terrified and—and fascinated, and the creature had seen him and he—

He’d expected to die. And he hadn’t.

Surviving the forest once had probably been a miracle. That he was here again was probably suicide, but he hadn’t been able to resist, had kissed his brother’s skull this morning and slunk away, and he might die here, his brother would never know what happened, would mourn him eventually, and Rus had known that. He’d known.

And he’d come anyway.

He stayed for close to an hour, as long as he dared, but aside from the occasional bird and one inquisitive squirrel, there was nothing. No reward for his daring and finally, Rus sighed and turned to go, and had to stifle a shriek when he was instantly face to face with…it.

“oh,” Rus whispered.

Not the face of a wolf, that was…it was a mask? A mask that was pushed up and stark red eye lights glared out from a skull similar to his own, although with sharpened teeth and a vicious crack in one socket.

It…he was real.

Hesitantly, Rus reached out, laying the back of his hand against the creature’s skull. The bone was warm against his chilly fingers. It didn’t flinch away, almost yearning into the touch, and Rus swallowed hard.

“you’re real,” Rus whispered.

The creature tilted his head to the side, blinking slowly. Said something low and guttural, his voice rough.

Rus shook his head, “i’m sorry, i don’t understand.”

Again, strange, rasping sounds, words? Rus wasn’t sure but it wasn’t any language that he’d been taught. Rus could only shake his head helplessly, his fingertips lingering against the smooth, warm bone of the creature’s skull.

“i wish i knew your name…do you even have one?” Rus murmured. Feeling foolish, he pressed his hand to his chest and said, softly. “rus.”

The creature narrowed his sockets and Rus flinched a little, clearing his throat and trying again. “rus.”

Nothing. Welp, he’d tried. This was starting to feel like an even worse idea than he’d known it was, and Rus took a step back, his soul practically trembling in his ribcage.

Before he could pull away, the creature had him by the wrist, holding him. It wasn’t a painful grip, but Rus cried out softly, fearfully trying to pull free.

Instead, he found himself backed into a tree, the creature looming in front of him. They were close to the same height, they were both beings of bone, but that was where the similarities ended. Rus wasn’t dressed in the forbidden color, crimson stark against the barren forest, Rus wasn’t wearing a necklace of teeth from some terrifying animal, and Rus wasn’t glaring intently, his eye lights sharp and filled with…with…Rus didn’t know. Some ferocity, ruthless intelligence tainted with feral intent.

At least he’d told his brother he loved him this morning.

Rus choked on a whimper as the creature leaned in, his sharpened teeth centimeters from Rus’s throat. Hot, whuffing breaths puffed against his cervical vertebrae and with a jolt he realized the creature was sniffing him, like a dog…no, like a wolf and he hoped whatever he smelled, it turned out in his favor. 

The creature drew back to look in his face again and Rus lowered his eyes, focusing on the brilliant, forbidden crimson of his cloak. Don’t look him in the eye lights, he told himself, he might take it as a threat, don’t…don’t…

Another low, rough sound came from creature and it took Rus a moment to recognize it.

His name. Croaked out, coarse and thick but recognizable.

“rus,” he agreed, nodding foolishly. “rus.”

Again, his name, and he didn’t mean to look up, but it was automatic. Rus met those sharp, glowing eye lights with his own, red, so red, wrong, they were wrong, they were _red_.

He couldn’t look away.

Slowly, the creature moved, patting his own chest with a gloved hand, and another low, coarse sound came from him.

Hesitantly, Rus repeated it, or at least what he thought it was, “edge?”

A nod, sharp and terse. “Edge,” it, he agreed.

“edge,” Rus said again and then patted his own chest, “rus. edge and rus.”

The creature’s skull twisted and Rus realized with a start he was smirking at him. “Rus,“ he said readily, “Edge and Rus.”

Okay, so that was funny for some reason? A little helplessly, Rus smiled back and nodded, “rus and edge.”

Immediately, the creature leaned back in and Rus jolted at the hot wetness of a tongue laving at his jawbone, trailing downward and…oh, uh. That wasn’t—

“wait,” he squeaked out and pushed frantically at the creature’s…at Edge’s chest. He pulled back willingly, head tilting in confusion and Rus rubbed his hands over his face.

Here he was, in the depths of the forest with a strange creature dressed in the forbidden color, the mysteries of the universe looming before him and all the creature wanted was to get into his trousers. Which…was not an unappealing thought.

He could run away…maybe. He could run away, back home, and stay within the safety of the town, stay safely with his brother and forget this, all of this. Forget him.

Rus didn’t move. He stood leaning against the tree, breathing hard and staring at the creature…at Edge…and wondered what the hell he was going to do.

tbc


	2. Yellow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Based off of this gorgeous art by cheapbourbon ](http://cheapbourbon.tumblr.com/post/177644472589/safe)

* * *

He shouldn’t be here.

Rus smiled to himself, concealed by his cloak where his face was buried into his arms. It was becoming a theme of his, not an entirely unexpected one. He’d never been very good at doing what he was supposed to do.

After his last jaunt in the woods, Rus would have thought he’d been content to remain home. It had been frightening, terrifying and…exhilarating.

Standing there last time against the tree, with his soul wildly pounding and a tangle of fear and desire inside him. Edge seemed to have taken his silence as consent and he had leaned in again, and that was when Rus’s panic had burst, overwhelming his common sense. Stories of the forbidden ones came back to him in a gush of memory, of what they did, of how they made the people suffer and Rus had been struggling before he even realized he hadn’t needed to struggle.

Edge had let him go the moment he’d started babbling, “no! no, no, no!” Let him go and let Rus run.

Rus buried his face further into his updrawn knees, cringing at the memory of his own panicked flight. He hadn’t been thinking at all, terror driving him, had he been expecting to be chased? Perhaps raped, murdered and left for the animals to find him or worse, consumed by the creature itself.

Himself. Edge.

When he’d finally slowed, his panic no lessened but simply unable to run anymore, Rus had all but fallen to his knees, whimpering softly as he waited for hands to grab him, to be pulled up to face that wolfen mask again. It took long minutes for him to realize that there was nothing behind him, or if there was, they weren’t attacking him.

There was nothing but silence in the woods, coupled with the skittering of squirrels and the chatter of birds. Rus had taken a few moments to calm himself and made his way back home, slipping in through the fences where he wouldn’t be seen.

That had been a week ago and here he was again, out in the woods where he should not be.

“foolish,” Rus murmured to himself. Even if Edge did return to this little clearing, Rus wasn’t sure what to expect from him. Anger, perhaps, ready to make the old stories true, or simple indifference, dismissive of his cowardice.

Not that Rus wasn’t familiar with being dismissed.

He’d chosen today to sneak away because Wednesday was baking day, and everyone knew he couldn’t cook. He could escape for a few hours and his brother would assume he was napping in the fields or the hayloft. His chores had been done earlier than normal, though Rus had been careful to avoid suspicion over that.

He’d slipped out to the woods and even now the sense of the forbidden had faded into familiarity. He’d been here before and come home mostly unscathed.

The question was would this time be the same.

Thus far, it seemed the answer was yes. Rus hadn’t seen a thing, sitting here against the tree with his cloak tucked concealingly around him. It was likely Edge wouldn’t even come here today, Rus thought glumly and why would he? Rus had fled from him a week earlier, why would Edge be expecting him to come back, now or ever.

He would leave soon, Rus decided, and perhaps he would sneak in that nap. Already the heat of the sun was making him sleepy, his cloak a little too warm and comfortable, he could nap in the fields where there was a cool breeze and the soft bleating of lambs as a lullaby.

Soon.

* * *

The feeling of being lifted was distant, foggy and unfamiliar. Rus couldn’t recollect having ever been carried; their parents had passed when he was too young and his smaller brother never could have done so. But the arms holding him were gentle, and the smell was almost familiar, smoke and the richness of honest sweat that came from hard work. 

Sleepily, Rus snuggled in, warm and cozy, and the arms around him tightened, holding him in. It took far too long for wakefulness to creep in and even when it did, Rus only blinked sleepily for too long, unfocused and drowsy until he finally took in the brilliant crimson in front of his sockets.

Rus swallowed thickly and drew back, looking up directly into Edge’s face. It was exactly as he remembered, the bright red eye lights gazing solemnly down at him, a crack spidering out from one. Close, so close to his own and distantly Rus realized he was in Edge’s arms, in his lap, held as easily as if he were a child.

“edge,” Rus whispered and he saw a flare in Edge’s eye lights.

“Rus,” he replied and his voice, that rough voice which had haunted Rus’s thoughts and dreams, wrapped around the brief syllable of his name.

This was, oh, this was trouble, and Rus squirmed a little, trying to put space between them. Edge took the hint immediately and let Rus loose from his arms. Edge was sitting on a fallen log and Rus moved to sit next to him, leaving a good little amount of space between them. At least he hadn’t run screaming into the woods, Rus thought ruefully, that was a marked improvement.

As if reading his thoughts, Edge arched a brow bone at him and said, “No, no, no?”

Well, then, Rus hadn’t known it was possible to sound sarcastic in a language someone didn’t understand.

He lifted his chin defiantly. “that’s right, no, no, no.”

Edge’s expression shifted to something closer to disgruntled, but he didn’t try to touch Rus again. Instead, he reached into a small pouch on his belt and brought something out, offering it to Rus. It looked like some sort of dried meat and Rus took it hesitantly, studying it. It was gnarled and dry, and look spectacularly unseasoned.

Perhaps Edge was questioning Rus’s intelligence because he took out another piece and bit into it with exaggerated motions. See, he seemed to be saying, you eat it, fool, try it.

With a sigh, Rus did, gnawing at it. It was gamey and barely palatable, much as he’d expected, but he hadn’t come out to the woods to insult his host’s cooking skills, and honestly, Rus didn’t have much of a leg to stand on there, anyway. He supposed he could bring out his own lunch, but he doubted Edge would be impressed by his dry biscuit with a slice of cheese.

Next time, he’d bring something else…was he already thinking of next time? By the gods, he was, and he realized with some dismay that he intended to do it, as well. Edge was…he was fascinating and…and…

Rus managed to get down his entire piece and to his relief, Edge didn’t offer him more. He did offer a water skin which Rus drank from gratefully, washing down the lingering dryness.

As Edge turned away from him to set the skin down, Rus caught sight of a small leather bag around his neck, a medicine pouch, maybe? His brother was a healer and made them sometimes when Rus was sick, filling it with strong-smelling herbs to chase out the offending humors. Without thinking, he reached out curiously to touch it and quick as a snake, Edge slapped his hand away.

Rus cried out, scrambling back, fear rising again, but already Edge was reaching out, looking remorseful. He took Rus’s hand in both of his gloved ones, rubbing his thumbs soothingly over his fingers.

“No, no, no,” he said sternly and Rus gave him a wobbly nod. No touching that, got it.

Edge hadn’t let go of his hand, holding it between both of his, and his touch was growing less soothing and more stroking, caressing Rus’s fingers in long, teasing sweeps. It felt entirely too wonderful and Rus didn’t draw his hand away, didn’t protest when Edge picked up the other one and did the same, tingles running up his arms at the soft touches.

It was only when Edge began to lean in that Rus drew away, shaking his head. “i can’t,” he whispered, “i’m sorry, but i can’t.”

If he’d had any lingering fear over Edge’s feralness, it vanished when Edge stopped and only looked at him with exasperation. “No, no, no,” he sighed and let Rus go.

“no, no, no,” Rus agreed timidly, and got to his feet. He needed to get back, he’d already been gone longer than he’d meant. Hesitantly, he laid the back of his hand against Edge’s cheekbone and Edge leaned into the touch, sockets half-closed. “i’ll come back,” Rus told him softly. He didn’t understand, couldn’t, but Rus told him anyway. “i’ll come back. Yes.”

“Yes,” Edge echoed and perhaps it only sounded hopeful to Rus.

He let his hand drop and turned away, heading back home and, for once, he walked.

-tbc


	3. Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some implied sexual harassment in this one, (not from Edge, I don’t play that way. Not Blue, either, because no.) Just a heads up. Also, I am taking serious liberties here with ideas about society. This ain’t exactly colonial America. Also, in this version I picture Blue as the elder brother.

* * *

Rus woke up later than he’d meant on Wednesday. His sleep had been troubled, knowing he was going to sneak back out to the wood the next day and the sun had already risen by the time he’d groggily woken. A quick peek into his brother’s room confirmed that Blue was still asleep and Rus crept downstairs, skipping over the creaky third step and slipping out the door.

Morning chores were simple and done quickly, gathering the eggs from their few chickens and quickly milking their amicable old cow, but he’d meant to pack a better lunch this time and had to creep back inside to try doing so quickly and quietly. To no avail; Rus managed to wrap up a few cold boiled eggs and last night’s biscuits, but he was still fumbling with a bit of salt pork when he heard his brother coming downstairs.

“Brother?” Blue came in, rubbing at his sockets. “You’re up very early.” He eyed the food on the table, the half-filled gunny sack. “And what are you up to this day?”

It was so difficult to lie to his brother, Rus settled for a half-truth. “i was going to sneak off to the southern fields while you baked with the matrons today.”

Blue hummed in soft amusement, “You were never fond of the smell of yeast. Wouldn’t you rather go into town, though? Some of the others play checkers at the store while their mothers are here.”

“no, i wouldn’t,” Rus said shortly. “they don’t like me, blue, beating them at checkers is hardly going to change that.”

“I know,” Blue said, soft with sympathy. They both knew. After their parents had died, Blue had stepped up as head of the household, and knowing he had little skill for farming, he’d taken a ‘prenticeship with Healer Gestor, taking over when the old man had passed himself. Blue was a useful member of the community, well-liked and respected. Rus was nothing more than the younger brother and too ill in his youth to learn a skill. It was well known that he had no dowry of his own to make him appeal to any of the youthful men and no property to draw any young ladies. There was no benefit to befriending Rus, other than only himself, and that didn’t seem to be enough for any of the villagers. Except…

“elder smith approached me the other day. he offered me a position as a house boy, but i think we both know that isn’t what elder smith really wanted,” Rus told Blue unhappily.

He did not tell his brother the way Elder Smith had nearly cornered him in the shop, in the far back by the pickle barrels, the way his hand on Rus’s shoulder had squeezed painfully hard when he asked and hadn’t released him right away when Rus declined. He didn’t tell his brother that he’d nearly run from the shop after, walking quickly home and that was when he’d decided to make another trip to the woods.

His brother only nodded sourly, under no illusions about Elder Smith. Unmarriageable was not undesirable.

“there’s no money in it, but i think you understand why i prefer to nap in the field.”

“We’re fine with the coin I bring in, Rus,” Blue told him firmly. He took over Rus’s fixings, neatly wrapping the salt pork in a little brown paper. Then he went to the pantry and there was the sound of rummaging. When he reappeared, it was with a handful of spice cookies that Rus hadn’t seen before and was that not like his brother, to take the opportunity to spoil him with his affection. He wrapped those quickly as well, tucking each package into Rus’s sack. “You don’t need to work and you need to take care of yourself.”

“brother,” he sighed. “i haven’t taken ill in ages.”

“Because you take care of yourself,” Blue countered swiftly, “so continue to do so. If napping in the fields on baking day helps you, then you have my blessing. Go on, then, before the matrons come.”

Guilt gnawed at him, “i love you, brother.”

Blue gave him a gentle smile, “And I you. Now get you gone, fool, before they see you.”

With a last quick hug, Rus did as he was bid, and the taste of guilt was heavy at the back of his mouth. He swallowed it away and kept on determinedly, his sack over his shoulder.

* * *

It was ridiculous, he supposed later.

In the same little clearing they’d met before, Rus was sitting just as he always had, only this time he’d spread an old blanket out on the leaves, his parcels set to the side in anticipation. As though he was planning a picnic with one of his agemates, Rus thought ruefully, utterly ridiculous, but he didn’t put anything away. He only drew his cloak tighter around him and waited.

Sooner than he expected, he heard crunching steps approaching and that alone almost sent him hiding behind the tree. Edge’s appearance settled him and he realized Edge must have deliberately made sound as he came so as not to startle him, as Rus had never heard him before.

It made a strange sort of warmth grow in his soul and Rus smiled up at him, “hello!”

Edge stood back and seemed to consider that, so Rus tried again, adding a little wave this time, “hello?”

“Hello?” Edge parroted back, with the same questioning inflection and Rus couldn’t help smiling.

“close enough,” he sighed. He patted the blanket coaxingly, trying hopefully, “come sit with me?”

That had a better response. Edge settled to sit on the edge of the blanket and seemed interested in it, running a hand over it. It was merely an old blanket that Blue had received as payment for some duty or another, nearly worn out from use, the once fine blues and greens faded. Edge seemed to find the pattern and the fabric fascinating, perhaps not surprising considering the rough weave of his own clothing, but honestly Rus hadn’t come out here to teach a weaving lesson, even if he could.

He wasn’t sure why he came out here.

“i don’t suppose we’ll have much to chat about,” Rus murmured. It was enough to catch Edge’s attention and his eye lights snapped back up to Rus. To Rus’s dismay, he began to reach for his pouch, probably to offer more of his dry meat and Rus gestured frantically.

“wait! um, no, no, no,” Rus stammered out and Edge paused, looking at him suspiciously. Maybe Edge thought he only came out for a free lunch once a week? Well, Rus was more than happy to disabuse him of that notion. He beamed at Edge proudly, laying out each item in its paper wrapping, “here, i brought lunch this time!”

To his surprise, Edge didn’t look happy or even interested. He…he looked angry, and Rus faltered, his hands falling into his lap. “what? what’s wrong?”

Confused, he watched as Edge shot to his feet, pacing around the clearing and gesturing while saying words that Rus didn’t understand. The context seemed obvious enough, though. He finally turned away, arms crossed over his chest and giving Rus his back, and even Rus understood the insult in that. He didn’t believe Rus was enough of a danger to keep even half an eye on him.

“well, fine, then!” Rus snapped, unaccountably hurt, “i’ll eat lunch on my own, thank you, and you can enjoy eating your pride!”

And he did, snatching up one of his brother’s biscuits and biting into it defiantly, chewing furiously. To his shame, he started sniffling, sockets burning and tears brimming.

He wiped away the tears angrily even as more spilled free, furiously embarrassed but he hadn’t expected to feel this way out here. Here was supposed to be frightening and wonderful and different, and instead, it was just like home. Being rejected for reasons he couldn’t understand.

He flinched when Edge suddenly crouched next to him, he hadn’t even heard him move, but his anger was softened. He cupped Rus’s cheek in his hand, wiping away tears with his thumb and looked into Rus’s teary sockets with intensity, until finally, with an aggrieved sound he sank down to sit on the blanket, poking at the provisions that Rus had brought. The salt pork was well received as well as the eggs, though the biscuits were firmly rejected. The cookies, on the other hand…

Edge picked one up and sniffed it, brow furrowing, and Rus kept his smile to himself. He took a tentative bite, chewing briefly, and then paused, his sockets widening, before cramming the entire cookie into his mouth, chewing furiously. Rus couldn’t help laughing, delighted.

At the sound, Edge looked up at him, head tilted, and his gaze was soft. He reached out to cup Rus’s face again and this time, he leaned in.

“wait,” Rus began, panicked, and Edge made a soft, hushing sound.

“No, no, no,” he said, softly, and it sounded like a promise. The touch of his hand was light, steadying, as Edge leaned in close to breathe in deeply against Rus’s cervical vertebra, shifting upward to nuzzle softly against the side of his skull. He didn’t hold, didn’t grip, didn’t _hurt_ , and Rus trembled, his hands clenched in his lap and the only thing he felt when Edge pulled away was disappointment.

“edge,” he whispered, and earned a smile.

Edge touched his thumb against Rus’s mouth, stroking softly, “No, no, no?” he prompted.

“i…i can’t,” Rus stammered, his soul pounding, he wanted, he did, but…

“No, no, no,” Edge repeated and nodded, pulling away completely. He took the moment to steal another cookie while Rus pulled together his tattered composure, taking the last cookie almost absently when Edge offered it to him. The sweet sugar-spice melted on his tongue and the taste made him think of his brother, of home.

He needed to go home.

With a shaky breath, Rus began gathering up the remains of their meal, stuffing the lot of it back into his gunny sack. When he got to the blanket, he hesitated, holding it bundled against his chest.

“you…you can have it, if you want?” Rus said, though he knew Edge didn’t understand a word of it. Instead, he pressed the blanket gently into Edge’s arms, encouraging him to take it. He did, holding it, looking at it with confusion. “keep it,” Rus tried. He patted the blanket, then Edge, “edge. for edge.”

Slowly, Edge nodded, though he didn’t seem any less confused. Rus backed away from him, smiling helplessly at the sight of one of the fearsome creatures of the forest clutching an old, worn blanket like a child with their lovey.

It was difficult to turn away but Rus finally did before he tripped like a fool, making his way home. The southern fields were fallow and unfarmed, tales telling of them being cursed, but Rus was still very careful as he crept out of the woods and into the safety of known lands. The walk home was long enough for contemplative thoughts and when he made his way to his own front door and opened it, he sniffed appreciatively at the aroma of yeasty baked foods rather than the sour smell of rising dough.

Blue was sitting at the table, shelling peas, and he gave Rus a warm, teasing smile, “Did you sleep well?”

He couldn’t lie to him, not again, and instead Rus offered simply, “i had a good day.”

With a sigh, he sank down into a chair to help his brother, letting Blue’s chatter wash over him as he offered whatever idle gossip the matrons had brought with them along with yeast cakes. Rus listened halfheartedly, nodding when it was required, but his thoughts were on the woods, on Edge and his blanket, and on the next Wednesday.

tbc


	4. Blush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elder Smith is still causing trouble and Rus gains an unsuspected ally.

* * *

Rus did not resent any of the chores his brother asked of him. Blue was terribly busy, both as a healer and in caring for their household, and Rus was more than eager to take on any task his brother might ask of him. Morning and afternoon chores, shopping, whatever it was, Rus loved his brother and he wanted to help him in any way he could. 

But after today, he might ask Blue if they could change his shopping day from Tuesday. 

“elder smith,” Rus gave him a tight smile, clutching his basket closely and tried to make his way around the larger person. After what had happened last week, Rus had tried to finish as quickly as he could, but it hadn’t been enough. He’d only needed one last thing, a packet of tea, which was, of course, at the back of the little store and couldn’t be seen around the shelves and sacks of grain and flour. 

Elder Smith returned his smile thinly and his bulk blocked the aisle so that Rus would have to push past him to get out. Rus shuddered to think of touching him and stayed where he was. The older man was even taller than Rus, no small feat, and looked down at him with a wintry gaze. “Papyrus. I was wondering if you’d reconsidered my offer.”

“i have not,” Rus said bluntly. His manners, well-ingrained into him by his brother, were faltering with his discomfort. 

“Ah, lad,” Elder Smith gave him what Rus supposed might be considered a sympathetic smile. To Rus, it looked more like a grimace, “Whyever not? I promise the work wouldn’t be too terribly taxing for you, I’m well aware of your…delicacy.”

Delicacy, Rus thought sourly. He wondered what they would think if they knew he spent the better part of his Wednesdays hiking out in the woods. His _delicacy_ wasn’t where Elder Smiths interest lay. Rus was well aware of what he looked like. As he’d grown older his ‘delicacy’, if that’s how it was to be phrased, had brought with it a certain appeal to some. 

“i do appreciate the offer, elder smith, but my brother prefers that i don’t overexert myself,” Rus told him sweetly. He could see barely see the top of the windows at the front of the store and yearned to be out in that sunny light. 

“Your brother, ah, yes,” Elder Smith nodded and took a step closer. Automatically, Rus stepped back and bumped into the shelves behind him. There was no escape that way. “An excellent healer to be sure, but ask yourself, what would you do if something became of him?”

Rus gasped and made a sign to ward off evil, “elder smith, what a thing to say!”

He held up his hands in a placating gesture and, to Rus’s disbelief, took the opportunity to lay them on Rus’s shoulders. They were in a shop in the middle of the _day_ , how could he be so…so… _inappropriate_. “Not saying it does not keep it from happening, look at what became of your parents.”

If he hoped to wound by bringing up his long dead parents, he was sadly mistaken. Rus hardly remembered them to miss them. He shook off Elder Smith’s hands and steeled himself to push past him, saying coldly, “i’m well aware of what became of my parents but i’m afraid my answer is still no. excuse me, elder smith, i need to finish my shopping.”

With that, Rus tried to push past him, but Elder Smith reached out and took hold of Rus’s arm, his grip tight and painful. “you’re hurting me,” Rus said low. 

Elder Smith leaned in close enough that Rus could smell something sharp and wrong on his breath, “Ah, but you’re stronger than you look, aren’t you, you impudent…”

“Papyrus!” A hearty voice called out. Before he could even look, a strong, friendly arm was slung around his shoulders, pulling him in jovially. 

“There you are, lad, your brother said you’d be in town today!” Dogamy said cheerily. The farmer’s broad, furry face was a picture of health and contentment. “We brought in our fall apples last week and I’ve a cask of cider for the two of you. Come over and help me load it and we’ll get it to your homestead. Ah, hello there, Elder Smith,” he nodded at him as if only just seeing him. 

Elder Smith nodded stiffly, saying a low, “Dogamy.” Then he walked away. Rus didn’t think he was imagining the knowing gleam in Dogamy’s eye.

“thank you,” Rus said, quietly.

“That’s all right, lad,” Dogamy growled. The friendliness dropped from his face as he glared after the Elder. “I tell you, I don’t like the smell of that one.” His jovial warmth returned when he looked back at Rus and Dogamy gave Rus a gentle shake. “Well! I meant it about the cider, finish up your shopping, lad, and we’ll head over.”

“just let me pay,” Rus said gratefully, and he went up front, and if the shopkeeper was unwilling to meet his eye, well, that told him it would be prudent to change his shopping habits sooner than later and perhaps have another conversation with his brother. Elder Smith was an important man in the village but so was Blue and perhaps the shopkeeper needed a reminder of that before he allowed innocent folk to be harassed in his store. 

Rus trailed after Dogamy, basket in hand, as he led the way to his own stand, heavily laden with some of their fall harvest. His wife caught sight of them and blew her husband a kiss even as she chatted with another villager, both of them haggling cheerfully over the wares. Their children were tumbling about, laughing in their way, their little tails wagging and Rus managed to pat a head or two as he followed Dogamy to a stack of cider casks. 

“Here we are then,” Dogamy said heartily. “Let me load it and we’ll be off!”

“oh, here…” Rus started to set his basket aside and Dogamy waved him off, the farmer’s muscles bulging as he lifted the cask into a sturdy wagon. Not a small cask either, one of the large ones that would barely fit in the corner of their pantry. 

“dogamy, that is twice what my brother orders!” Rus protested.

“Aye, it is, it is,” Dogamy panted a little and grinned, but his voice was soft and serious, “But last spring when my wife was taken with childbirth and the babe was breech? I think we would have lost the both of them if it weren’t for your brother, so you’ll take this and in the darkest part of winter when you have cider for a treat, you’ll thank the gods for giving our village your brother as I do every day.”

Rus smiled, “i will.”

Rus was taller than Dogamy, but he still reached up and rubbed his knuckles over Rus’s skull like he was one of the little ones. “There’s a good lad. Come on, now, let’s fetch this home for you.”

Trailing after him, Rus had a guilty thought that he might well appreciate the extra cider sooner than that. But he pushed that aside for now and trotted after the farmer, listening as the friendly fellow chatted about his children and the harvest, and Rus was content, for once, in his place in the village.

* * *

He didn’t forget that niggling little idea and the next day when he crept out of the house before the matrons arrived for the weekly baking, Rus managed to sneak out with a skin of cider.

This time, he was hardly there a moment before Edge appeared and Rus wondered how long he’d been there and where he hid, for surely he was keeping an eye out for him.

That forbidden crimson still made his soul tighten when he first saw it, so bright, so stark, but it seemed easier each time to accept its presence. Particularly when Edge raised a hand in a clear mimic of Rus from last week and offered, “Hello?”

“hello!” Rus greeted him, happily. “no lunch this time, i’m afraid, but i did bring a treat!”

Rus sank to sit on the ground and Edge joined him, this time promptly reaching into his little pouch to bring out some food, as though trying to beat Rus to it. Not that he was going to protest and this time he had some dried berries as well. Trying to top Rus from last week, perhaps, and Rus made a point of eating everything he was given. Manners weren’t only for the dinner table, as Blue was fond of saying. Only when Edge offered his water skin did Rus hold up his own.

“now, i hope you don’t think this is some sort of contest,” Rus told him, feeling foolish but it seemed rude to not speak, “But i thought you might like this.”

With a certain caution, Edge took the offered skin and sniffed at it. Rus wasn’t particularly offended and hoped Edge shared his emotion. His anger last week had been rather upsetting. This time he only grunted in appreciation and drank deeply, more than Rus thought he should, first time out. Even plain cider could have a certain effect on the tummy, after all, and even those who lacked one could endure it. 

“you’ll not want to drink too much of that,” Rus cautioned, “i’m thinking that you’re not used to it and you’ll have a regret tomorrow.”

Edge ignored him, not a surprise since he wouldn’t have understood a word of it. “all right, then, give me that,” Rus said, exasperated and he blinked when Edge held it away, out of reach. Startled, Rus began, “what are you…” only to catch the smirk on Edge’s face.

“oh, it’s like that, is it?” Rus laughed. He lunged for the skin and missed, half falling into Edge’s lap as they wrestled for it and his laugher was closer to shrieks as they grappled together. Edge was laughing, too, he realized with glee, nearly silent huffs but there was no question it was laughter. It ended with a startled whoosh of breath as Rus found himself pinned beneath Edge, the skin forgotten as he panted and looked up into those crimson eye lights. 

Oh. Oh, this was, it was…

He was so close, the press of his body firm and warm against Rus’s even through the layers of their clothing and recklessness rose in Rus’s soul. He leaned up, close enough to smell the sweetness of Edge’s breath and he’d never stolen a kiss from anyone, he’d never, but he wanted—

The sudden shower of cold liquid over them was cooling in more ways than one and Rus blinked through a spatter of sticky wetness to look up at Edge, who was also dripping with sweet juice. The skin had ended up between them somehow and when Rus leaned up, it had compressed it and sent a shower of apple cider over them. 

Weakly, Rus flopped back and groaned, even as Edge rolled off him and climbed to his feet. That was one way to spoil a mood, he supposed. 

He blinked as Edge offered him a sticky hand and took it, allowing Edge to pull him to his feet. Edge made a gesture, indicating Rus should follow him and nervously, Rus did, going deeper into the forest than he had before. 

This…this was fine. He was hardly frightened of Edge any longer; if Edge wanted to hurt him, he could have already done it so many times. And any other dangers that lay in the wood, Edge was likely a match for most of them. He was probably as safe as one could be within the forest and the thought was warming.

Rus heard the water before he saw it, the trees opening up into a clearing to reveal a stream of clear, cold water babbling through. 

With brisk movements, Edge unfastened his cloak and beneath Rus was startled to see straps from a harness of some sort. The cloak lifted away in less of a bundle of cloth and more a permanent shape and Rus realized with a shock that the spines that protruded through it weren’t actually a part of Edge but were cleverly constructed to appear as if they were. Protective armor, as it were, like a porcupine. 

He seemed smaller without their bulk but not much so, instead standing as tall and straight as any of those in the village and perhaps it shouldn’t have shocked him as much as it did. “you really are just like me,” Rus murmured. 

It was only then that Rus realized that Edge hadn’t stopped with the cloak and was pulling off his tunic as well, setting it aside along with the jangling collection of baubles that he wore. He stared, sockets wide, as Edge stripped down to the bone at least to the waist, his chest bare as a newborn babe if not nearly as pure. His bones bore visible damage, healed roughly but strong and…and…

Edge was looking at him, more than a little amused. He gestured at Rus and his still-clothed state, and how was it he could communicate so well with a simple expression and a motion of his hands? However it was, it worked, because Rus understood very clearly that he was being taunted. 

Rus hadn’t been bare with another since he was a child, not even his brother… 

Defiantly, Rus lifted his chin and began to unbutton his shirt, ignoring the hot flush rising in his cheekbones. Edge’s watched him briefly, but he looked away and moved to crouch at the water’s edge, splashing his arms and face. Rus finished hastily and moved to join him, wincing at the chilly water. His baths were normally in the kitchen in a large tub with water heated on the stove, not outside with the nip of Fall on his bones. 

It was enough to encourage him to wash hastily, cleaning away the stickiness. There was nothing to be done about his shirt, he could hardly make the trek home shivering in wet cotton, but at least he wouldn’t have to endure the cider residue. 

“Rus.”

Rus looked up, startled at the sound of his name in that rough, husky voice and let Edge pull him to his feet. Oh, Edge was close to him, as close as he’d been before their unexpected shower of cider, and they were both bare to the waist and his eye lights were soft. 

He didn’t think, didn’t try to reason with himself, only leaned in a little blindly and pressed their teeth together. To his dismay, Edge inhaled sharply and pulled away. He looked a little shocked of all things and Rus wondered a bit wildly if his people didn’t kiss, perhaps he’d even managed to insult him. It seemed like the sort of thing he’d manage, Rus thought with painful unhappiness. 

Edge studied him and his expression…softened. There was no other word for it. He leaned in and pressed his teeth hesitantly to Rus’s, curious and cautious.

Timidly, Rus parted his teeth, felt Edge do the same and he let his tongue venture in to find Edge’s. 

He didn’t expect Edge to pull him in tighter, didn’t even consider that Edge might push his tongue back against Rus’s eagerly, and he might not have done this before, but he certainly seemed to _like_ it.

An arm around his waist pulled Rus in closer and against his pelvis, he could feel hardness pressing against him. With a gasp, Rus drew away and Edge let him. Edge closed his sockets, exhaling slowly, and Rus watched as he crouched down to splash cold water on his face.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, the lingering taste of their kiss sweet and what was he here for then, if not to try something forbidden? The memory of Elder Smith in the shop, his rough, rude hands and his lascivious looks made something in Rus chill, tightening and pushing against a place that preached manners and orderliness and yet allowed a shopkeeper to ignore what should have been a respected elder harassing a youth in the back of his store. 

He took Edge by the shoulder and he looked up immediately, water dripping from his skull. 

“i don’t want to stop yet,” Rus whispered and then shook his head, no, Edge wouldn’t understand that. “yes?” he tried.

“Yes?” Edge echoed, without comprehension  
.  
“yes,” Rus repeated, tugging lightly at Edge’s arm until he stood. He was taller than Rus, broader, and Rus’s settled his shaky hands on Edge’s ribcage, tracing the lines of it, his fingertips finding rough spots where they’d broken and healed. A glimmer of understanding was rising in Edge’s eye lights and Rus didn’t protest as Edge walked him backwards. There was a moment of confusion when Edge swept up Rus’s cloak from his pile of clothing, draping it over his shoulders but the sudden feel of a tree against his back made sense of it, the fabric cushioning him from the rough bark even as Edge crowded him against it.

“ooh,” Rus whimpered. The slick, wet touch of a tongue against his cervical vertebra was a mirror to the first time they’d touched only this time he tipped back his head and allowed it, shivering as sharp fingertips scraped over his own ribs, lingering in places that Rus hadn’t even known were sensitive. 

A knee pressed between his legs, the femur pressing against the crux of it, and Rus gasped at the startling pleasure of it. Edge’s hand at the small of his back urged him to move and Rus followed it, raising his hips to clumsily rub against it. Oh, that felt good, it felt like secret, forbidden nights late in his room when he’d explored himself, hardly daring a few light touches, in a terror his brother would hear him and wake.

There was no one to hear him here but Edge and he made no protest of the frantic noises falling from Rus’s mouth, unbidden and weak. He caught them with his own mouth instead, his tongue hot and soft against Rus’s and he hadn’t known this would feel so good, hadn’t known that pleasure would tighten in a coil in his lower parts, his hips rocking frantically against the pressure of Edge’s femur against them. 

So focused was he on Edge’s mouth, on that heat rising in him that he didn’t notice Edge’s hand slipping lower, not until his fingertips found the join of legs and pressed. Even through his trousers, Edge seemed to unerringly find a little place that make that pleasure peak and Rus shuddered as it washed over him, strange and frightening and wonderful as all the things he’d discovered in the woods seemed to be. 

Hazily, Rus opened his sockets to find Edge was watching him avidly, his eye lights hot, brilliant crimson. He took a step back and lifted his hand, the one that had been between Rus’s legs, to his face, inhaling deeply and Rus felt the heat of a blush flood his cheekbones. Oh, by the gods, had he…had they really…?

Edge was still shirtless and through the thinner fabric of his leggings Rus could see that he hadn’t...he...he hadn’t…

Rus swallowed hard. He had to, didn’t he. His brother was a healer, he’d explained the finer points of relations to him and Rus had had his pleasure; now he needed to return it. His fingers shook as he reached out, intending to touch and he could do this, he could--

To his surprise, Edge caught his hand and pulled it to his mouth, pressing his teeth against his fingers, “No, no, no.”

Confused, Rus said, weakly, “but i need to...”

Only to have Edge shake his head firmly and Rus didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. His hand was still trembling in Edge’s grip as he was tugged over to his clothing and he stood mutely as Edge picked up his shirt and helped him put it back on, his fingers nimble with the buttons though his own clothes had none. Lastly, he draped Rus’s cloak back around him, fastening it at his sternum and pulling up his hood. 

Edge touched his cheekbone, those sharp fingertips trailing painlessly down it, murmuring a word in his own tongue. 

“k’uhah?” Rus repeated, curiously. 

It earned him a little smile and a gentle kiss, teeth softly touching. “K’uhah,” Edge agreed as he drew back. He gestured back the way they’d come. “Rus. Home?”

It made Rus blink, more than a little surprised. “how did you…oh! i did say that last time, didn’t i. you’re quite good at this,” Rus laughed softly, “better than me.”

“Home,” Edge repeated and it had a touch of an order to it. Well, that was fine, he did need to be getting back and Rus leaned up to steal another kiss, just one more, and for a moment Edge’s hands flexed on his shoulders, not painfully, but tightly, holding on. Then Edge pulled back, taking another long, slow breath and giving Rus a light push in the right direction. 

Rus nodded, a bit inanely, and went. Their little clearing wasn’t far and Rus stopped to gather his water skin. It made him notice a certain dampness in his trousers and he grimaced, not relishing the idea of walking all the way home that way. Maybe he could go back to the river and wash up a bit before he left? Rus wavered, considering, and it wasn’t too terribly far, it would only take him a moment.

Decided, he retraced his steps, and now that he was listening for it, he could hear the gurgle of the water. A flash of crimson caught his eye and Rus gasped, heart pounding as he crouched behind a tree. 

Oh, Edge hadn’t left yet. He was sitting against a tree, the construct that was his cloak next to him. His head was leaning back against the trunk, his knees drawn up and perhaps he was napping? As Rus peered out, he saw his expression change, tightening, and one of his hands was concealed in his lap, his shoulder flexing and--

Oh. _Oh_. Oh, this was a private thing, he should go, this was why Edge had sent him away so hastily, so that he could…could take care of things on his own. He needed to leave quickly and quietly, give him the privacy that he’d so obviously wanted and…and yet…Rus was fast getting a taste for the forbidden. He wanted to see.

Swallowing hard, Rus made a little sign of penance for his soul and then crouched lower, watching as best he could from around the tree. He couldn’t see much; Edge’s drawn up legs blocked most of the view. One hand was on his knee, his fingers digging in and his expression, oh. He looked like sin itself, as forbidden as the color he wore so carelessly and Rus felt that heat warm in him again at the thought of touching him, of Edge making that expression for him, because of him. 

“Rus,” Edge groaned and Rus flinched back, cringing behind his tree. But Edge’s sockets were closed, his teeth parted as he moaned Rus’s name again. Not speaking to him, then, but –Rus’s cheekbones burned but he didn’t look away again. He couldn’t look away, not as Edge arched up into his own hand, a sharp sound escaping him and Rus watched him find his own pleasure, watched as he sank back against the tree. 

Oh, that was…it was…the hand on his knee rose, lifting in something like a wave and Rus jerked as he realized Edge was looking right at him, smirking, and the heat in his eye lights lingered, beckoning. 

Rus turned away and ran, as he had before that first time, but he couldn’t outrun the memory of that look nor the heat that lingered heavily in his soul. That night, huddled into his narrow bed, he kept a hand over his mouth as he gave in to the heat and the memory, muffling his moans while his brother slept on in his own room.

After, he lay panting, sweat cooling on his bones, and knew he was in so much more trouble than he’d thought. 

 

tbc


	5. Sallow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus isn’t about to let anything as simple as not feeling well keep him away.

* * *

His throat was a bit scratchy when he woke that Wednesday morning and by the time Rus made his way to the southern fields, it had turned closer to an ache, one that was mirrored in his skull.

It wasn’t enough to keep him from the woods and Rus made his way carefully through the decrepit barn that sat in the back of the fields. The back wall had fallen in at some point and it was from there that Rus made his way into the woods. Not that there was anyone to see him; everyone else avoided the southern fields but he didn’t want take chances.

It was almost too warm for his cloak, likely the last of the gentle fall days before winter came. Or perhaps that was the fever he could feel starting to take hold, unwelcome as it was. He hadn’t taken ill in months and if Blue had known he’d been a bit under the weather this morning, he’d never had let him leave. 

Well, he’d know by this evening and Rus was already resigned to spending a day or two in bed. That was the way of it and it had been so since he was a child, and if he were to complain about it now he may as well spend his time pouring water in a hole to empty the well. It would be just as useful. 

The walk to their little clearing seemed longer than normal and Rus sighed in relief when it came into view, wanting nothing more than to sit for a few moments. He’d hardly taken two steps towards the fallen tree that served as something of a bench when strong arms caught him up from behind. He choked back a startled shout, only just recognizing the red gloved hands, the smell of woodsmoke and clean sweat, and a rough voice whispering next to his skull, “Rus.”

“that was an unkindness,” he complained, but he sank back into Edge’s arms almost greedily, soaking in his warmth. 

Rus couldn’t help shivering as Edge nuzzled at his cervical vertebrae, working his way up. He’d had dreams about this the past week, waking up shivering and wanting. His head still ached but not enough that he couldn’t tip it back, sighing at the soft, wet touch of tongue but Edge paused when he got to Rus’s cheekbone. He drew back and pulled off one of his gloves with his teeth, dropping it to the ground and pressing the inside of his wrist to Rus’s forehead.

“yes, yes, i know,” Rus batted his hand away irritably. “i’m a touch feverish but the weather is lovely today, i’m not about to get a chill.”

Edge scowled at him and said something, and honestly his language would almost be lyrical if Rus wasn’t certain he was getting a thorough scolding.

Rus frowned right back at him, tugging free of Edge’s grip. “i already have my brother to nursemaid me, i don’t need you as well.”

He might not have understood the words, but he certainly did the tone. Edge frowned deeper and tugged him down to the ground, urging him to lay with his head in Edge’s lap.

“fine, fine,” Rus grumbled, “you don’t have to be a bully about it.” Still, he couldn’t help sighing as Edge shifted to drape the edge of his own cloak over Rus, covering him in forbidden crimson. It gave him a strange feeling to see it touching him, but it was lovely and warm. Rus closed his sockets so he didn’t have to look at it. 

This really was not what he’d come out here for, but even the memory of what had happened last week wasn’t enough to stir him much. A shame. Edge hadn’t put his glove back on and his fingers were gentle as the smoothed over Rus’s skull, lovely and cool. 

“i suppose i wasn’t being truthful,” Rus said sleepily. “i don’t mind you nursemaiding me a bit.” He buried his face into the cloak draped over him and beneath the woodsmoke, Edge smelled of something faintly spicy. It was tantalizing in a way that curled a tendril of heat in Rus’s soul. It was just a sad state of affairs that he wasn’t up to doing anything about it. 

He opened his sockets a slit and on the ground was a puddle of red. Edge’s glove. Rus picked it up gingerly with two fingers, laying it flat on the ground to examine it better. He couldn’t guess the type of leather, but it was finely made, the stitching was close and neat. He tried to picture Edge sitting in a rocking chair much like his own brother did, sewing his clothing and drinking tea as he rocked. The thought made him giggle a little, though surely something similar must happen or Edge would be wandering about the wood bare. Not a terrible thought, to be sure. He wondered drowsily how Edge dyed his clothing so vibrantly. 

The glove disappeared from view, plucked away by bare fingers, and Rus peeked up at Edge.

“No, no, no,” he scolded, firmly tucking his cloak closer around Rus.

“all right, nanny,” Rus yawned and closed his sockets again. Above him, Edge was murmuring softly in his own language, not quite a song, but something almost like a chant. Perhaps it was a prayer, Blue often said prayers over people when he was helping them, little faith charms to speed the healing along. It was soothing, almost soporific, and Rus sighed softly. He’d just sleep for a bit…

The sun was a good bit lower than Rus liked when he woke, still mostly curled into Edge’s lap. Edge didn’t seem to have moved but his sockets were closed, his hands still on Rus’s skull and shoulder. His headache had receded into hardly noticeable and when Rus made to sit up, Edge’s sockets opened immediately.

“i’m afraid I wasted the day, i need to get home,” Rus said softly. If he hurried, he’d be in time for dinner.

“Home,” Edge echoed. He stood and held out a hand, tugging Rus to his feet. To his surprise, didn’t let him go, leading him instead in the direction of the village.

“hold on a moment,” Rus said, surprised. He resisted the pull of Edge’s hand, digging his heels in. “you can’t come with me.”

Edge only looked at him, deeply unimpressed with Rus’s protest. Clearly, he said, “Home. Yes.”

“why do you only ever use my own words against me?” Rus said, exasperated. His headache reminded him of its existence, throbbing softly at the back of his sockets. He shook his head with a sigh, “all right, but only for a little way. you mustn’t be seen. they’d…” Rus swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure what would happen if the other villagers saw Edge but he was certain it was nothing good. They wouldn’t understand; they couldn’t. 

Edge didn’t seem concerned and he certainly seemed to know the way well enough. He kept a hand on Rus’s elbow, catching him when he stumbled, growing weary far too soon with any refreshment he’d gotten from his nap soon lost.

Just as the barn was coming into sight, Edge stopped. “Rus, home.”

“home,” he repeated tiredly, and much as he wasn’t looking forward to being ill, a day or two in bed no longer seemed such a terrible thing. He truly did need to get home, but couldn’t help lingering, he wanted…well. He wanted a kiss, truth be told, and he was uncertain about taking one. 

“oh, go on, fool,” Rus muttered to himself. He steadied himself with a hand on Edge’s chest, rising up on his toes a little to reach and…Edge drew back, making him wobble unsteadily. 

It sent a stab of pain through his soul, oh, he didn’t want…perhaps he was no longer interested now that he knew Rus was sickly? Like everyone else and that stab of pain spread into a sharp ache, Rus blinking hard and of course he wouldn’t, of course…

Edge was smirking down at him, one brow bone raised. “Yes?” he asked, almost sweetly. Of all the mocking, teasing things to do!

“yes, you mean thing,” Rus sighed, then he nearly squeaked as he was caught up in a hard embrace, Edge’s mouth rough against his own as he was thoroughly kissed. All thoughts of sickness or headaches fled, and Rus moaned low in his throat, clinging to Edge, his fingers clutching the deep, forbidden crimson of his cloak. 

Dazed, he wobbled a little on his feet when Edge let him go. Edge caught both of his shoulders and held him still until he found his balance. “Home,” he said again, firmly, and Rus nodded.

“home,” he agreed, and he followed Edge’s gentle push, trudging through the wood to the barn. The walk into town would surely be unpleasant but the memory of that kiss was certain to sweeten it. 

tbc


	6. Russet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus is still recovering from his illness. Let's go from there.

* * *

On Wednesday night, Rus had gone to bed directly after dinner, managing to avoid his brother’s worried gaze in the hope that some sleep would keep his illness from getting worse. A futile hope; when he’d woken the next day, feverish and coughing, there was no longer any hiding it from Blue.

Rus had accepted his well-earned scolding meekly while his brother slathered a foul-smelling oil on his chest. 

“You know better than this, Papyrus,” Blue said sternly, though worry was clear in his eye lights. “You won’t be playing in the fields for a few days, little brother. You need to stay in bed and rest, nothing more.”

Rus nodded in silent misery. He’d obey his brother in this, he swore, he had a week to heal and he needed to be well for Wednesday, else he’d miss his chance to see Edge for an entire week. 

That knowledge made him bite back protests when his brother hung a medicine bag, around his neck though the rank odor of muskroot and devil’s dung was appallingly strong. 

His brother cajoled him into drinking a bitter tincture and left him to fall into a fitful sleep. He woke briefly, bleary and hot, to drink more medicine. Blue told him he had to go, there was a woman in childbirth, and Rus nodded vaguely, shooing him away. 

He slept again and the next time he woke the light coming in through the curtains was fading with the upcoming twilight. Rus rolled over, still drowsy and ill, intending to fall back asleep, when he heard it. Someone was in their house, someone whose footsteps were far too heavy to be his brother. 

Fear gripped him, fear of who might be willing to dare slipping into their home when they knew Blue was away. Rus pushed back the blankets and rose on shaky legs; on his bedside table was a heavy pitcher and he grabbed it, feeble as he felt, before creeping down the stairs. 

They were in the kitchen, Rus could hear them, and he crept towards it, raising the pitcher over his head and he turned the corner and—

Dogaressa whirled around, gasping in shock, and Rus staggered, nearly dropping the pitcher is his surprise. 

“Goodness, Rus!" she exclaimed. She took the pitcher from his hands before it could fall and set it on the table. "You gave me a fright!"

"the feeling is mutual," Rus mumbled, swaying on his feet. She caught him up as easily as she would one of her pups, swinging him up into her arms. 

"Child,” she said sternly, “you should not be out of bed."

"not a child,” Rus croaked. It was difficult to argue when all he wanted was to nestle into her comforting arms. 

Dogaressa scoffed at his protest. "You're only a handful of years older than my eldest, you're child enough to me. Come along then."

She carried Rus to back to the bed easily, the farmer’s wife as strong as her husband.

“There we are, my lad,” she said and tucked the blankets back around him. A press of her wrist against his forehead had her tutting and she went back out, returning to with a cool cloth.

“why’re you here?” Rus asked fuzzily.

“Blue asked me to look in on you. He said you were having one of your spells.”

“oh,” Rus said, a bit blankly. Everything seemed terribly confusing to his fever-addled mind. Dogaressa held a cup to his mouth and he drank automatically, coughing a bit at the bitterness of one of his brother’s tinctures. When he’d finished every drop, she settled him back on the pillows, sponging away the sweat on his skull with the wet cloth. 

“Oh, Rus,” she sighed, her kindly face filled with worry. “Your brother should look to marrying again, so there would be someone else to look after you.”

“don’t need looked after,” Rus muttered. He didn’t add that Blue was about as likely to marry again as he was to sprout wings and start roosting in the coop.

“No?” She wet the cloth again, dampening his face, and Rus sighed at the coolness. Teasingly, she said, “Mayhap you need a lady or gentleman of your own, then.”

“i have a gentleman,” he mumbled thoughtlessly, pushing the blankets down. It really was terribly hot. “only not really.”

“Do you now?” Dogaressa seemed oddly wary about that. “Child, perhaps we will discuss this again when you’ve less of a fever but let me say now, you’d best make sure you have a supply of slippery elm tea if he’s not one to marry.”

“i do,” Rus sighed, “blue does. he told me, no babies.”

“All right, then,” Dogaressa seemed to relax. “Best that wait for the right time.”

“no babies ever,” Rus corrected tiredly. “i’m sick too much.”

She stilled and when Rus managed to look at her in confusion, tears were standing out in her eyes. Softly, “Oh. I am sorry, Rus.”

“s’all right.” It was, mostly. Rus didn’t have much interest in his own children, but it didn’t add to his marriageability. He’d seen marriages end when the carrying spouse failed to produce a child. He supposed it might be different if he had an interest in ladies, but since he would be expected to carry, it simply wasn’t meant to be.

Dogaressa stayed a bit longer, patiently sponging him with cold water until his temperature was lower.

“All right, then, lad,” she said finally, settling the cloth a last time on his forehead, “I’m headed for home before it’s too dark. I’ll let your brother know how you’re doing, shall I?”

He hummed a sleepy agreement. “thank you for coming. dogamy did a great service to me as well recently, i am grateful.” 

“We care for you, Rus,” she said, gently chiding. “Stop by and see the pups when you are well, they care for you, too.”

“i will,” he promised. He listened to her heavy footsteps on the steps until he heard the front door open and close. 

Sleep was pulling at him, but before Rus allowed it to take hold, he settled a hand on his swaddled chest, closing his eyes and croaking out the healing prayer his brother had taught him. It made his hand feel warm and heavy, and he felt a little better afterward, as he always did.

Sleepily, he curled up beneath the blankets and wished for wellness, for at least a little while.

* * *

By next Wednesday, he was feeling perfectly well. Blue had been somewhat grudging to allow him to return to his ‘escapades’, as he called them, but Rus had pleaded with him and even he couldn’t argue that Rus wasn’t better. His fever was gone, his color was good. 

He’d given in with good grace, “Very well, brother, but you’ll let me freshen your medicine bag before you go.”

Rus had been eager to escape and allowed it, though he had a chance to regret it now. The aroma was less than appealing and though he couldn’t be certain, he suspected that if Edge got a good whiff of him, he’d send Rus straight back the way he’d come.

In the end, Rus had hung the medicine bag on a nail that protruded from the rotting wood in the barn from the southern fields. Hopefully the walk would clear any lingering aroma.

As he drew closer to their clearing, and surely it was pathetic that he took a little thrill at calling anything theirs, a different aroma assailed him, a much nicer one. It made him think of cooking meat and his mouth watered. Still, it was something new and strange, and Rus approached warily, peeking around trees until everything became clear.

Away from the trees and their overhanging branches, Edge had cleared away the weeds and fallen leaves to fashion a small firepit. He was crouched next to it, the brilliant crimson of his cloak spread out behind him, and he must have been there for some time because the fire had burned down to glowing coals. There was some kind of clay pot suspended from a roughly made tripod and he was stirring it. 

He looked up and smiled softly at Rus. His eye lights seemed terribly gentle and welcoming. “Hello.”

Rus’s soul throbbed. It was such a contrast to when they’d first met; Rus wasn’t sure he’d earned that soft smile, but he wanted it all the same.

“hello,” Rus replied, hoarsely, then cleared his throat and repeated it. “hello, edge.”

Well, he hadn’t expected that to earn him a frown. Edge rose smoothly to his feet and walked over to him. Rus swallowed hard, frozen as Edge took him by the shoulder and…leaned down to press his cheekbone against Rus’s forehead.

“i suppose i deserve this,” Rus sighed, and he allowed Edge to prod him, peering closely at his face and even pressing his head to Rus’s chest to listen to his breathing. Exasperated, Rus gave him a little shove. “all right, then, enough of that.”

“All right?” Edge echoed, and Rus smiled helplessly.

“all right,” he agreed, “yes.”

To his surprise, Edge brightened at that and before Rus could question it, he leaned down and stole an eager kiss.

Oh, perhaps the meaning of that one had gotten muddled, Rus thought hazily. He met it with nervous eagerness of his own, greeting the caress of Edge’s tongue with his. Rus couldn’t say how long they stood there, sharing breath and ever heating kisses before Edge finally drew away. 

Rus was panting a bit and it was gratifying to see Edge seemed equally affected. 

“Yes,” Edge repeated with a touch of his own hoarseness.

“yes,” Rus replied, like his wits were addled. He certainly felt that way.

But instead of trying to continue, Edge took him by the wrist and led him to the fire. He gestured for Rus to sit while he resumed fussing over his crude cook pot. 

Rus watched curiously. “i have to say, i didn’t expect you to be any sort of cook. i suppose if i thought about it at all, i assumed you ate whatever you could skewer.”

Foolish perhaps, to talk to someone who hardly understood him, but Edge hadn’t protested yet. He seemed satisfied with whatever he discovered in the pot and picked up a bowl, ladling a fair portion into it. He handed it to Rus with obvious expectations, but for a moment Rus was distracted by the bowl. 

“Oh, this is lovely work,” he murmured. There was a certain unevenness that spoke to it being hand carved and around the rim was a delicate pattern of swirls and shapes. It was obviously well-used and well-cared for. The spoon was wooden as well, more functional than pretty, but still nicely done.

Edge gestured impatiently, and Rus relented, scooping up a bite. He suspected Edge was still irritable about the lunch Rus had brought and was eager to prove himself. Not that Rus understood why, for heaven’s sake, but he couldn’t argue with the results. 

The meat seemed to be rabbit, although Rus hadn’t eaten enough of it to be certain, savory with a rich gravy and there were some kind of tubers as well. He couldn’t place the seasoning, but it seemed rather …oniony? Whatever it was, it was delicious, and Rus took another bite eagerly.

Edge was still watching him, and Rus swallowed his current mouthful before smiling at him and nodding in a way he hoped was reassuring, “it’s quite good!”

That seemed to satisfy him. With the corner of his cloak, he took the handle of the pot and lifted it off the fire, setting it aside. To Rus’s consternation, he didn’t fill a bowl of his own and Rus realized he didn’t see another. Perhaps this was his only one.

“this won’t do, come here,” Rus patted the grass next to him, giving Edge a hopeful look. Instead of sitting by him, though, Edge sat behind him, his legs on either side of Rus. 

“oh,” Rus murmured. “oh, this is. this is fine. it’s perfectly fine.” Thus decided, he scooped up another spoonful and this time offered it over his shoulder to Edge. He had the feeling that Edge was indulging him by taking the bite, but he didn’t care; he wasn’t about to simply sit here and eat in front of him.

Against his back, Edge was a heavy warmth, contrasting to the waves of heat coming from the fire. He wouldn’t be catching a chill this time, Rus though ruefully. They worked their way through the bowl of stew, exchanging bites, until Rus was scraping the bottom of the bowl for the last smears of gravy. 

With a contented sigh, Rus set the bowl aside, “that was wonderful, i never suspected you could…eep!”

His voice broke on a squeak as Edge nuzzled his cervical vertebrae above his collar, the damp, delicate touch of tongue against the bones.

Blindly, Rus scrambled for a handhold and ended up clutching Edge’s knees, his fingers digging into his leggings. Edge’s arms were around him, fingers plucking at the buttons on Rus’s clothing, though not unfastening them. Not yet.

He sat there, caught up in the web of his uncertainty while Edge did nothing more than pet him softly over his clothes, though his touches asked a question that Rus was unsure how to answer.

It wasn’t as if Rus didn’t know what to expect; his brother had been humiliatingly thorough explaining what might be expected of him both if he were with a gentleman or a lady. He didn’t suppose Edge was precisely a gentleman, but he doubted the act itself would be much changed. 

Blue had told him he didn’t hold to the twaddle that relations should only be for producing children, he’d said that the marriage bed should be one of love and pleasures shared. He hadn’t mentioned that neither of them ever expected Rus should be married and yet, he’d also spoken at great length about how to prevent an unwanted child. It did make him wonder about his brother’s notions. It was wrong and yet—

On the other side of the card, certainly Elder Smith hadn’t been offering for his hand, but rather, he was grotesquely eager for what lay in Rus’s trousers. 

Did he want that? Would Edge expect it of him? Oh, he couldn’t think with Edge teasing his collar lower, teeth scraping delicately, and he’d allowed liberties before but…

“yes,” Rus sighed out at last. “oh, yes.”

Those lingering hands stilled briefly, then once again found his buttons. His coat was opened and the vest beneath it, and he could feel the chuff of breath as Edge discovered the shirt beneath that. As though he were amused by Rus’s many layers. Underneath was only a thin undershirt, easily drawn up and then the velvet softness of gloves were against his bared ribs.

No one had ever touched him like this, Rus was sure he wouldn’t have wanted them to, and yet he yearned into Edge’s hands, the surety of his fingers sliding over his ribs, tracing the line of his collarbone and upward to cup his jaw. He urged Rus to tip his head back and his attack on Rus’s senses continued as he nibbled the newly exposed bone.

“ohh,” Rus groaned hazily, so distracted he didn’t notice Edge’s hands moving again until his thumbs stroked the barely exposed bone of his iliac crests.

The pulse of fear in his soul didn’t quite overshadow the pleasure of those touches, but it was a near thing. Until Edge’s fingertips skirted the edge of his trousers, barely slipping beneath the waistband, and then his panic bubbled over.

He caught Edge’s hands with his own, blurting out, “wait!” 

Edge went utterly still, not withdrawing nor proceeding.

“No, no, no?” he asked softly. His wrists flexed lightly in Rus’s grip, noticeable even through the thin material of his gloves, and Rus realized he was holding them so tightly his own fingers ached. He eased his grip, but Edge didn’t try to move. Waiting for an answer.

“no…i mean…yes…i mean, just a moment!” Rus stammered. His soul was pounding, with fear, with want, he didn’t know, was he going to…he was never going to be married, never have a family of his own, and here he was in the woods now with Edge so warm against him, he’d been so gentle, surely he would be gentle—

“all right,” Rus whispered, then louder, “yes.”

Edge kept his hands where they were, only moving enough that he could see Rus clearly. His eye lights searched Rus’s face. He nodded slowly. “Yes?”

“yes,” Rus agreed. “yes…oh!”

One of Edge’s hands kept hold of his pelvis, steadying him while he raised the other to his teeth, tugging off his glove before slipping it smoothly beneath Rus’s waistband. Clever, sure fingers slipped between his legs, moving against him. This was so much more than what had happened at the stream, Edge’s fingers touching him so intimately, moving in slippery little circles.

Oh, he hadn’t known, nothing had ever felt like this, nothing, the gentle pressure of Edge’s thumb against one little place that left him weak and whimpering. It made him want to spread his legs a bit more, hampered by Edge surrounding him. The first cautious press of a finger inside him had Rus clapping his hands over his mouth, stifling a cry even as he arched up into that touch. 

Strange and wonderful, frightening and enticing, like the woods themselves, like Edge. His thumb stayed where it was, circling, as another finger pressed into him. Rus couldn’t focus his thoughts, could do nothing but rock his pelvis up into Edge’s hand. 

Dimly, he heard Edge crooning to him, nonsense words of encouragement, and could feel it coming again, his pleasure cresting and Rus could only quiver with it, whimpering softly as the aftermath of it left him weak and shaky, slumping back into Edge’s arms. 

He couldn’t help wincing as Edge gently slipped his fingers free, blushing at the wet glisten on the bone. Edge only caught Rus’s chin with his damp fingertips, tipping it towards him.

“Rus,” he murmured, pressing an almost chaste kiss against his mouth. “Rus.”

Color was high in his cheekbones, his eye lights hot and against his tailbone, Rus could feel…well, he could feel that Edge was still wanting.

He shifted in Edge’s lap, moving to sit so that he was leaning against Edge’s drawn up knee. With one trembling hand, he reached for the front of Edge’s leggings, only to yelp when Edge caught his hand, stilling it.

“Rus,” he said, gruffly, and there was a note of warning in it.

Rus lifted his chin in defiance. “you aren’t being fair, i want to…to make you feel good.”

For a long moment, they looked at each other, eye lights meeting and whatever Edge saw in his face was enough to loosen his grip. 

His hand stayed circling Rus’s wrist lightly, but Edge stopped holding him back. Uncertainly, Rus pushed up his tunic; he thought to draw his leggings down and lost his nerve, instead sliding his hand in blindly. 

“oh,” Rus mumbled, awed. Heat, so much heat, hard and hot against his palm. Edge huffed out a groan, his arm tightening around Rus’s shoulders. His other hand followed Rus’s wrist to his hand, twining their fingers together. Gently, he guided Rus, urging him to tighten his grip and move in a steady rhythm, encouraging him when he faltered, his hips rising to meet Rus’s tentative stroking.

Judging from his low moans, the raggedness of his breath as Edge sank against him, Rus wasn’t doing too terribly. Edge was leaning into Rus, and he could feel the tension rising in him, the shudders wracking him and with a groan that was closer to a growl, Edge stiffened, his hand gripping Rus’s almost painfully. Rus gasped softly as hot wetness fell over his fingers, strange and slick. Edge sagged against him, his breath huffing in quick pants against Rus’s collarbone. 

Oh. He’d done it, he’d given Edge pleasure, the evidence of it was still wet against his palm. With a wince, Rus pulled his hand free, grimacing a bit. He drew out his handkerchief and wiped his fingers, absently thinking he’d need to wash it before he returned home so his brother didn’t find it.

Before he could even tuck his handkerchief back away, Rus found himself pushed down into the leaves, branches heavy with autumn colors above him, and Edge leaning over him, braced on his arms as he sniffed at Rus’s still-bare collarbones, his chest, moving even lower to push his face into the crux of Rus’s legs and inhaling deeply. Rus yelped aloud at that, squirming and pushing him away. “now stop that!”

How was it Edge's smile could be both sweet and sly?

“what am i to do about you?” Rus whispered. There was a faint tremor in his hands as he raised them to cup Edge’s face, tracing his cheekbones with his fingertips. Helplessly, he whispered again, “what am i to do?”

Edge leaned into his touch with a low rumble, taking one of Rus’s hands in his own and pressing a kiss into it. 

“Rus,” he murmured, letting him go. To Rus’s surprise, he turned away to dig in his satchel where it leaned against a nearby tree, drawing something free. Wordlessly, he handed it to Rus and he examined it first curiously, then in disbelief.

It was a pair of gloves, an exact match to Edge’s, only they’d been dyed to match his own cloak and at the wrists, the same symbols he’d seen on the bowl had been stitched. 

Edge tapped the symbols with one fingertip. “Edge.”

“is this your name?” Rus wondered curiously. “you have quite the odd alphabet, then.” 

He couldn’t take these, Rus wouldn’t be able to explain where he’d gotten them, he’d never be able to wear them—no. He could wear them out here. Another small secret to keep. 

Gingerly, he slipped one on, then the other. They fitted perfectly as...well. A glove. Edge was still watching him with unusual solemnity and Rus offered him a tremulous smile. Thoughtlessly, he flung his arms around Edge, hugging him tightly, and Edge caught him automatically. 

“thank you,” Rus breathed, drawing away to look up at him.

“Yes?” Edge asked, cautiously and Rus laughed softly. 

“yes, yes, of course, yes, i love them,” Rus agreed happily. 

Edge only nodded, still oddly solemn, and took one of Rus’s gloved hands in his own, raising it and pressing a kiss at that symbol. Something about the intensity of his gaze made Rus swallow, his smile faltering, until Edge used his grip on Rus’s hand to reel him in, wrapping an arm around him and stealing a last kiss.

He drew back with a heavy sigh. “Rus, home.”

Rus blinked, looking back at the sky and winced at how low the sun was. “home,” he agreed, reluctantly. He wished he could linger, wished he could have another kiss or three, but Edge was right. He needed to get home. With a last, lingering look, Rus turned away, buttoning his clothes clumsily with his gloved hands. 

Never had the trek seemed longer, and the way Rus kept looking at his gloves didn’t speed things along. He kept turning his hands this way and that, admiring them. The leather was butter-soft against his bones and he could only imagine Edge working on them this past week. It was only when the barn came into sight that Rus reluctantly took them off, stashing them inside his shirt for safekeeping until he could hide them in his room. 

More secrets from his brother, he thought guilty, more sins to hide. 

He was halfway home when he remembered the medicine bag and had to return for it. It was still hanging from the rusty nail and Rus snatched it up, walking quickly now because he was well and truly late, and if he meant to keep secrets, he was going to have to do better than this. 

Careful, he reminded himself, he needed to be oh, so careful and not just for himself. The other villagers couldn’t know about Edge. They couldn’t. 

The soft weight of the gloves inside his shirt filled him with guilty warmth and Rus walked quickly along, already imagining where he might hide them. The foul odor of the medicine bag was like a punishment and Rus accepted it; it was worth it, to see Edge. 

He couldn’t wait for next week.

* * *

tbc


	7. Spice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The problem with secrets is they only stay secrets when no one knows them.

* * *

The world went on without a care for Rus’s eagerness for Wednesdays. Life in the village was unchanged, with a few small deviations. 

For one, Rus did their weekly shopping on Monday morning, getting up early to go to the store the moment the shopkeeper opened. Only farmers and their kin were up at this hour, alongside the shopkeeper’s wife, who was able to smile politely at Rus and meet his eyes, as her husband no longer did. Much as Rus would have preferred sleeping a little longer, it was well worth it to return home unscathed, with Blue coming down the stairs as he came back in the door. 

His brother didn’t question Rus’s new schedule, but there was a shadow in his eye lights, and a sadness. Likely blaming himself for not protecting Rus and that was ridiculous. He wasn’t a child, he could handle his own problems, and the fact that Blue was allowing him to said that he thought so as well. 

It did not stop him from taking advantage of Blue owing the Dog family a favor. With very little coaxing, he persuaded Blue into making a batch of his spice cookies for them as a thank you. No one in the village made them better than his brother and Dogaressa had a passel of children; surely none of them would turn their wet little noses up at a treat.

Rus kept his hood up walking down the path to their home on the outskirts of town. Autumn was in full force and the wind was chilly this morning. All his venturing into the woods did have one pure benefit, Rus thought ruefully. Not that long ago, walking this far would have left him winded and today he only felt pleasantly tired, and quite able to walk back home when he was ready.

The farmhouse was plainly whitewashed, with a wagon in the midst of repair on the side of the yard. Hardy flowers were still blooming, bright yellows poking their faces out of ancient barrels turned to planters, and the sprawling fields around the house had haycocks ready for the winter dotting them. The curtained windows were glass, a testament to Dogamy’s success as a farmer. It was a cheery, welcoming home and Rus hadn’t a qualm about knocking lightly on the front door. 

A curtain twitched, giving him a glimpse of an eye and part of a muzzle, then it opened to reveal Emma, the eldest of the Dog children. 

“Rus!” Emma exclaimed with genuine pleasure. “What brings you all the way out here?”

He and Emma weren’t age mates, Rus being a handful of years older. He’d babysat for her a time or two when she had been a child, but she’d come of age this summer and was the very picture of a lovely farmer’s daughter. Her delight at seeing him, something none of his actual age mates ever seemed to offer, made Rus smile in return.

“your mother did me a good turn last week when I was ill,” Rus explained, holding up a package, “and my brother always told me that a favor given should have a favor returned before bad luck takes hold.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense!” Emma scoffed, laughing, “Come in, come in! Mamma is in town running the stand and Papa is out in the fields with the boys. It’s only me and Micah home, but come in for tea, won’t you?”

“i shouldn’t—” he started to demur, but Emma had her mother’s determination and her strength, hauling him and his light burden inside. In no time, Rus found himself seated at a well-scrubbed table, a cup and saucer in front of him waiting as the water heated. 

The kitchen was filled with a sort of cheerful clutter, a vase of flowers alongside baskets of eggs and apples scattered about and there was a large pot steaming on the back of the stove, likely dinner for the many hungry bellies that would be back this afternoon. 

Micah, the youngest pup, the one whom Blue had saved when he was born breech, was still on all fours, crawling happily at their feet. He took hold of the edge of Rus’s cloak and managed to haul himself upright, beaming proudly as Emma exclaimed over his triumph. His crow of glee turned to pleading as he held both arms up to Rus, and soon he was settled into Rus’s lap, sucking on a furry thumb and drowsing while Emma poured tea.

“I haven’t seen you in an age, Rus,” Emma said, stirring sugar into her own cup. “How is your brother?”

“as well as ever.” Rus busied himself opening the package, since cookies were excellent with tea. “busy, lately, there’s a grippe going around and fall always seems to be a busy time for little ones choosing to be born. he keeps on his feet, to be sure.”

“That’s good to hear,” Emma gave him a sad smile. “I do think of him from time to time. It was a terrible thing that happened, leaving him a widower so young.”

“it was,” Rus said, low, with a pang of his own grief, and they both made signs to protect the soul of a loved one lost.

“Well!” Emma sighed out, “I have to admit, I had a motive for getting you inside for a chat.” Emma’s ears twitched down, her hands curled tightly around her cup. “I overheard my parents talking about Elder Smith and you the other night.”

A chill went through Rus despite the warmth of the tea. “you did?”

She nodded. “A bit of, but papa seemed quite angry about it. Said it was a disgrace, in broad daylight and everything. Rus, what happened?”

Even Blue didn’t know the entirety of the story and yet, Emma’s eyes were kind, no hint of a gossipmonger within them. Hesitantly, Rus told her the story, haltingly at first and then everything came spilling out in a rush. By the end, Emma had a hand over her muzzle, shock and anger of her own visible on her pretty face.

“No wonder father was angry!” she whispered. “And the shopkeeper, he didn’t say a thing?”

“not a word,” Rus said unhappily. His spoon clinked gently as he stirred his cooling tea and in the crook of his arm, the baby stirred but didn’t wake. “elder smith has influence and no little wealth. he was afraid to, i expect.”

“A coward, more like,” Emma said spiritedly, then she shook her head. Misery colored her expression. “Oh, Rus. I have a secret of my own, if you promise to keep it.”

“of course,” Rus told her, and he would. Confessing to her made the burden of knowledge seem lighter on his soul; surely, he could offer the same.

Emma chewed on her lower lip, blinking too hard, “Elder Smith made a similar offer to me not a week ago, when I was working at the stand alone. Asked if I wouldn’t consider coming to his home from time to time to do a little housework.”

Rus gasped and made a warding sign against evil, because surely that was evil, far more than any he had found in the woods. He, at least, was getting a little long in the tooth for marriage. It _might_ be explainable that an offer for some sort of future could be made, no matter how tawdry. But Emma was at the cusp of adulthood, she’d only taken to wearing the long, saffron cloak that bespoke of it this past month. Few parents would let daughters as young as Emma leave their homes for matrimony. Then again, he wasn’t offering for her hand so much as other parts of her. “emma, i can hardly imagine him being so bold, and to you of all people! did you tell your father?

She shook her head. “He would be ever so furious about it. He was quite angry over him speaking to you that way. And as you say, you can hardly believe it, who else would? All he offered was a chance for me to do a bit of housekeeping, truly, but his eyes…” Emma shivered, her own eyes downcast. “I thought it best not to say anything.”

A difficult choice, to be sure. Dogamy was a good farmer but he was only farmer, and he had a family to care for. Who knew what evils Elder Smith could wrought if he chose? Rus shook his head, unhappily, “perhaps you’re right. do be careful, emma, i…your father said he doesn’t like the smell of him.” Rus tapped his own face and his lack of a nose of his own. “i may not have the muzzle of your linage, but i don’t trust him, either. you’ll tell him if something else happens, won’t you?”

She nodded, sipping her tea, only to wince, “Oh, it’s gone cold. Let me make another pot.” With a thick cloth in hand, she took the kettle from the fire and poured hot water back into the teapot. “At least you might not have to worry about it much longer,” Emma said, and gave Rus a surprisingly sly look, smiling teasingly. “I overheard mamma say you may have a gentleman now. Perhaps he might settle the issue for you?”

Rus swallowed, inadvertently tightening his arms around the baby until he made a sleepy noise of complaint. He hardly remembered talking to Dogaressa that night, what had he said? “i…that is…”

“You needn’t tell me your secrets,” she said pertly and wagged a finger at him. “But I wouldn’t say a word to a soul, you goose!”

“maybe there’s a gentleman,” Rus mumbled. Heat was warming in his cheekbones, not entirely from embarrassment as thoughts of Edge filled his mind. Of last week, of the things they’d done.

“Oh?” Emma arched a brow at him, plucking a cookie from the plate and nibbling. “Mightn’t there be wedding bells in your future, then?”

“no,” Rus said quietly. He couldn’t even pretend that lie. “i think not. we’re only…well…that is…”

Emma looked gleefully scandalized, “Rus!”

“i’m not very marriageable, emma, and that’s a fact,” Rus sighed.

“Only because there’s so many fools in the village,” Emma said stubbornly, and Rus smiled weakly, warmed at her defense in spite of himself. “And he’s a fool if he’s only looking for milk without wishing to buy the cow!”

“emma!” Rus hissed.

She waved him off, “Oh, don’t be silly, I was raised on a farm!”

“anyway, it’s not like that,” Rus muttered. “it’s…we couldn’t possibly…but…”

She patted his arm, gently, “Do be careful, Rus? And come see me again, soon, won’t you? We’ll talk more, shan’t we, and I’ll keep your secrets if you keep mine.”

“i will,” Rus said gratefully, and their chatter turned to lighter subjects as they finished their tea.

* * *

The next day as he walked through the wood, Rus considered what he was doing, this secret that he couldn’t speak of, not even to Emma. Though it had been a wonder to spend time chatting with someone who wasn’t his brother.

Emma was right, though, he did need to be careful, and not simply for his own sake. There was his brother to think of, and Edge, who was unaware of the danger he might be putting himself in by meeting Rus. Perhaps he should think about this more, pray for answers? Maybe even reconsider these meetings before they could take a poor turn.

Any thoughts of that evaporated as the clearing came into sight and with it, Edge. He was crouched by the fire, his cloak drawn back so the long lines of his legs were visible, long boots laced to the knee, and Rus swallowed thickly. Just looking at him was stirring, the forbidden crimson of his cloak no longer inspired fear but rather, something closer to longing.

Edge glanced up as Rus came closer and Rus raised a hand in greeting, “hello!”

He wasn’t expecting Edge’s sudden frown, nor the way he stalked over, taking Rus’s hand in his own. Something in his gaze was almost accusing and Rus could only blink at him in confusion, looking down at their clasped hands, his bones white against Edge’s gloved ones and—

“oh!” Rus exclaimed, “the gloves, of course. it’s a little warm for them yet, but then you’ve been wearing gloves every time we’ve met. all right, nanny, if you insist.” Rus drew them out and tugged them on, the buttery soft leather a formerly unknown pleasure against his bones. He waggled his fingers at Edge teasingly. “happy?”

It seemed so; Edge drew his hand up and kissed the mark at his wrist fondly as Rus watched in bemusement. Perhaps it was something of a traditional greeting for his people? If so, Edge was making up for them lacking it now, following the gloves up and lingering where the cuff met his shirtsleeve. Oh, he’d never known the bones of his arm could be so sensitive, shivering at the delicate gust of breath against them.

How could he have considered staying away from this, Rus thought hazily, letting Edge draw him closer to the fire. Perhaps this was a sin, but it was one for which he’d gladly beg forgiveness.

Edge sank to the ground, pulling Rus with him to sit between his splayed legs, and Rus tipped his head back, hoping for a kiss.

One that was eagerly granted, and Rus could only moan, settling his trembling hands on Edge’s knees and this time when Edge’s fingers plucked at his shirt buttons, Rus only sighed against his mouth and let him, whimpering as gloved fingertips stroked his ribs, following them back to where they met his spine.

“oh,” Rus sighed. Edge broke the kiss, his mouth hot and gentle against Rus’s cervical vertebra. Coaxing him wordlessly to tip his head to the side, granting him access to sensitive bone and cartilage. Hands skirting his waistband found the fastenings of his trousers and Rus tried not to flinch as they were unbuttoned, the placket opened and this time his hands didn’t simply venture within. They tugged, pulling his trousers lower and Rus closed his sockets tightly, lifting his hips and letting Edge pull them free.

Leaves rustled and crackled beneath him as he was turned and lowered to the ground, gentle hands ridding him of his shoes and trousers. He shivered, even with the warmth of the fire, as cool air touched his bones and then Edge was kneeling over him, his eye lights bright, moving avidly over Rus.

Blushing, Rus thoughtlessly tried to cover himself with his hands; no one had ever seen him like this, not only bare but with arousal thrumming hotly, visibly, at the crux of his legs. Only to have his hands caught, a kiss pressed again to the symbols on his wrist. 

“No, no, no,” Edge murmured against the soft leather. “K’uhah. Rus, k’uhah.”

“i…i don’t…know what that means,” Rus stuttered out, but the reverence with which it was said made a low thrum pulse in his soul. He let his hands go lax, falling to the ground, and Edge slipped lower, his mouth hot against Rus’s ribs, tongue dipping lightly against his spine, his pelvis and then—

Rus’s shocked wail was cut off by his own hands, muffled into his gloves as Edge pressed his face between his legs and he stared sightlessly at the sky, sockets wide. His brother hadn’t mentioned any of this!

But how could he, how could he have ever explained the unbearable pleasure of a tongue moving against him, the soft, satisfied noises that Edge made as he lapped tenderly. The sharp, hungry glow of his eye lights as he looked up at Rus, and Rus jerked helplessly, fingers scrabbling uselessly at Edge’s skull as he pressed a finger inside him. The sweet, wet touch of his tongue was wonderful and wrong, nothing should feel so terribly good, and Rus could only squirm and whimper, easily held.

Dimly, Rus could feel sweat trickling down his face, stinging in his sockets, but it was as distant as a dream. Edge’s breath was hot against him, following the path of his tongue and heating the wetness it left behind, and his fingers were clever, matching its rhythm. Shuddering, Rus curled up, pleading in low, broken words but he was beyond caring that Edge couldn’t understand him. The pleas of his body were plain, and he needed…he _needed_ , arching into the relentless pressure of Edge’s hands and mouth. 

Another thin cry escaped him, torn loose, and with Edge’s name falling raggedly from his throat, Rus let the pleasure overwhelm him. It seemed endless, wracking him, cresting to nearly unbearable until Edge finally drew away, his hands soothing down Rus’s femurs.

Rus could only blink, dazedly, as Edge shifted up to settle between his legs. He was heavy, the weight of his body more than Rus had expected, and his cloak settled over them both, rough fabric against the bareness of Rus’s bones. A shift of his hips dragged the clothed shape of his arousal against Rus’s pelvis, making him gasp, his hands scrabbling at Edge’s shoulders. 

Edge made a sound, close to a growl, leaning down to press his mouth to Rus’s, smearing wetness and oh, that faint sweetness was himself, wasn’t it, this was going so quickly, too quickly, he could feel Edge reaching between them, shifting to lower his leggings and--

“oh!” Rus gasped aloud, looking down and gaping as Edge took himself in hand. That hadn’t felt quite so large in his own hand last week, he couldn’t imagine such a thing fitting inside him, he knew it should, he…he knew it…and…

A trickle of fear was starting to thread its way through his desire, he wanted this, he didn’t want it. The tip grazed his pelvis and they both jerked, Edge with a groan and Rus with a whimper. He turned his face away, squeezing his sockets closed and the warmth of stinging tears only barely registered. 

“Rus,” low and gentle, whispered to him, and the pressure of Edge’s weight eased. Startled, Rus looked up and Edge cupped his face in a hand, his thumb stroking over his cheek bone. Again, so softly, his own name, “Rus.”

Fear receded as Edge didn’t move, only stayed half-crouched over him. Despite his obvious need, despite the fact that Rus was so terribly exposed and available, he only stroked Rus’s cheek, murmuring softly to him, his name and words that Rus could only wonder at their meaning. 

“let…let me?” Rus whispered. Hesitantly, Rus reached down, his hands hovering, then cupping the heavy length. A sharp huff of breath escaped Edge in a groan and together, they stroked him. 

Sweat was trailing damply down Edge’s skull, tension rising as his hips followed the clumsy rhythm of Rus’s hands. With his tunic rucked up and his leggings only barely lowered, he was a mess of disarrayed clothing and the heat in his eye lights melted into a vague daze as hot wetness fell between them, pattering softly on Rus’s pelvis. Ducking his head, Edge kissed him harshly, making a sound against Rus’s mouth that might have been a groan, might have been words, or perhaps a mixture of both. His weight was heavy against Rus again as he sagged down but this time Rus welcomed it, wrapping his arms around Edge and pulling him in close. 

There was nothing but the faint rustle of leaves and the crackle of the fire, their breath mingling as it slowed. 

With a groan, Edge shifted up on his elbows, looking down at Rus. His eye lights were softer, the deep crimson seemed lighter in the autumn sunshine.

“hello?” Rus offered, weakly, and Edge made a chuffing sound of laughter. 

“Hello,” he replied, nuzzling a kiss against Rus’s teeth. “Hello, Rus. K’uhah.”

“i do wish i knew what that meant,” Rus sighed. “it’s certainly a pretty sounding word.”

Edge only tipped his head to the side curiously.

“pretty,” Rus tried, “k’uhah, pretty.”

“Pretty,” Edge repeated agreeably. “Pretty k’uhah. Pretty Rus.”

It made a blush rise in his cheekbones even though Edge couldn’t have known what he was saying. Cool air was starting to seep beneath Edge’s cloak, tickling at the places Rus was bare, and he squirmed until Edge reluctantly moved, letting him stand.

Maddeningly, he insisted on helping Rus with his trousers, which consisted more of him trailing his fingers over Rus’s femurs, down to stroke his ankles and feet as Rus struggled to put on his shoes around his tricksy fingers.

“you’re terrible,” Rus told him with fond exasperation.

“Terrible,” Edge agreed eagerly, stealing another kiss.

The light was already taking on tones of dusk, Rus saw unhappily. The shorter days were no friend of his, and with a last kiss, Rus tried to draw away. "i need to be getting home, i’m afraid.”

Only to be stilled by a hand on his arm and Rus blinked, perplexed, as Edge drew him down to sit next to him. For once, he kept his hands to himself, instead holding up a single leaf as he slowly said a word. When Rus only looked at him, confused, Edge twirled the leaf in his fingers and said it again, gesturing at Rus.

“leaf?” Rus asked, puzzled and Edge brightened, nodding.

“Leaf,” Edge agreed. He dropped it and they both watched as it fluttered to the ground. Patiently, he picked it up and dropped it again, mimicking its path with his hand. And again, fluttering his fingers behind it as it fell.

“um. down? fall? falling leaf?” Rus tried, and Edge nodded, satisfied. 

“Leaf fall,” Edge looked pleased. “Rus and Edge, home, leaf fall.”

“home. leaf fall. we should be home as the leaves fall?” Rus muttered. Oh, he’d never cared for puzzles the way his brother did. He sorted through it, trying to understand, then it clicked. “oh! oh, yes, we should be home during the winter, yes.” He smiled, happy that he’d understood. “rus and Edge, home for the leaf fall.”

It made an ache rise in his chest to think of it, but he could hardly wade through snow drifts to see Edge. Terrible as it was to consider, Edge was right, they would have to be home for the ‘leaf fall’, as he put it. 

Just imaging it made him tired. Back home for the entirety of winter, back to spend all his days in the village. Without Edge.

Rus shook away his growing melancholy. They had a little more time, the first few snowfalls were usually mild as well, they could still…he could still…

Gently, Edge drew his hand up and pressed a kiss to the symbol on Rus’s wrist, sighing, then he rested his cheek there a moment, breathing in. Scenting him, Rus realized, the way he so often did. As though Rus smelled of something wonderful, as if he _was_ something wonderful.

How was he supposed to give this up?

The fading light was a reminder, a warning. He needed to leave. Pained, he carefully drew free, Edge’s hand holding his own until the very last touch of their fingertips.

“i’ll come back,” Rus promised softly. “next week, i’ll be back.”

“Leaf fall, home,” Edge said, and though he was smiling, Rus winced. 

“Well, we’ll deal with that when it comes,” Rus whispered. A little desperately, he pressed a last kiss to Edge’s teeth and then spun away, walking quickly before he could be tempted to linger any longer. His gloves were soft and comfortingly warm in the growing chill and it was with true regret that he had to peel them off as the boundary of the woods came into sight. 

The cold was a reminder of the coming winter, more so even than the leaves crunching beneath his feet, and Rus shivered, pushing the thought away. There was still a little time yet with Edge and he was going to take every scrap that he could. 

tbc


	8. Whiteout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first snow has fallen and Rus has a choice to make.

* * *

Never in his life had Rus been so unhappy with the first soft layer of snow of the season. When he’d gotten up that morning, still drowsy and shivering from leaving the warmth of his bed, he hadn’t even noticed it until he gone outside to collect the eggs. It was only then as a swirl of flakes blew into his face that he knew, and his soul sank.

Tomorrow was Wednesday, and he was out of time. Edge had spoken of falling leaves but surely falling snow was a worse bargain. He’d be lucky to creep away before his brother saw him in the morning, because it was one thing to say he was drowsing in the fields in the fall, quite another in the chill embrace of winter. Scoldings and lectures about catching cold were surely on their way and Rus had little in the way of excuses.

It would have to be a worry for tomorrow. For today, he gathered the eggs as quickly as he could and returned to the warmth of the house to add a few more layers before finishing his chores. No use in falling ill at the first sign of winter, his brother would lock him in his room until spring if he allowed that. Better to use the sense that the gods had given him and avoid his brother’s smothering altogether. 

It was only later, bundled up in front of the fireplace with a warm blanket, that Rus allowed his thoughts to drift back towards the woods, to Edge. Tomorrow would very likely be their last time together and much as that thought hurt, and it did, a raw, throbbing pain in his very soul, Rus had been raised to be practical. 

They had tomorrow, so what was he planning on doing with it?

Most of his wandering ideas were sinful enough to bring a hot blush to his cheekbones and overwarm, Rus pushed his blanket off, focused on winding up the soft lamb’s wool in his hands. He was planning on crocheting Blue a new scarf, Rus noticed this morning when his brother had looped it around his neck that his old one was quite worn, and Rus would have made another ages ago, only…

…only Azzy had made the one he was wearing now, and Rus wasn’t certain about replacing it. After so many years, it was closer to a rag than a scarf, the original robin’s egg blue faded to a dull gray. But Blue had made it clear he was still in mourning and that didn’t seem likely to change anytime soon.

There was so little left of him in the house; the small painting Blue had commissioned as a wedding gift and the quilt he’d made was always folded at the foot off Blue’s bed, waiting for the coldest of winter nights. There was the odd knick knack here and there, a doily, piece of needlework, each one evoking a memory. Even his clothes were gone, reluctant as Blue had been to part with them, but even he could see that allowing them to molder in the closet unused was a waste and he’d given them away, wanting no coin.

It had taken a long time for Blue to smile again, after that. 

Rus rubbed the soft wool between his fingers, considering. It was undyed, delicate black twisted together with white, and it would keep his brother warm on the long nights he would spend out, helping others. And it would be a gift from him, surely Blue wouldn’t turn that way. 

Decision made, Rus took out his crochet hook and got to work. Focused as he was, he had a few good inches done when a knock on the door startled him from his efforts. A little warily, he set his yarnwork aside and went to peer out the window. Blue was out in the village, checking on his patients and collecting the herbs that everyone had grown for him over the summer for his tinctures. Perhaps he’d sent someone home with a delivery?

Instead, he saw a smiling, furry face beneath a heavy hood pulled in tightly to ward off the cold, and Rus opened the door with no little surprise, “emma?”

“Well, I’m not a changeling, you goose!” she laughed. Her eyes were bright and sparkling with cheer. “Do let me in, I’ve been walking all the way from the homestead.”

Hastily, he stepped back, “yes, yes, of course,” Rus stammered, and helped Emma with her heavy cloak, dusting away snow before it could melt and dampen it. “by the gods, you walked all this way? whatever for?”

Her smile was cheerful, but edged with a trifle of doubt, “Well, you came to see me last week and we had such a lovely chat, I thought perhaps you’d want to do it again? Mama took the baby with her and told me chores could go hang for a day, said we should spend some time gossiping.” She held up a knit bag hopefully. “I brought some sweet buns, if a little bribery would help?”

“i…” Rus floundered. No one had ever come by simply to see him, all their visitors were for Blue, either those seeking his services or friendly neighbors. Emma was looking at him anxiously and Rus found his smile, a warm hope settling in his chest, “of…of course! you needn’t have brought a bribe, i wouldn’t have left you standing on the porch.” 

Her good humor returned quickly, and Emma laughed in sweet delight, “I should hope not! Shall we have some tea with them?”

“oh, yes, of course,” Rus hurried to the kitchen, cursing his fumbling manners, and gathered the pot and leaves. Tea, at least, he could manage, and soon the two of them were settled in front of the fireplace with cups and a plate of buns. 

“That’s lovely,” Emma said, running a light finger over the few inches of Rus’s scarf where it was draped over the chair arm. “A fine yarn, wherever did you get that?”

“blue gets all sorts of bits and bobs from everyone,” Rus said, a touch ruefully. “he’s not one to demand a coin if someone can offer a barter instead. i suspect he had a scarf for me in mind, but he’s going to take the one i’m making for him because i’ll not hear a word of complaint about it.”

“There you are,” Emma clapped her hands in delight. “Brothers need a firm hand from time to time, I think!”

“i’m sure he thinks the same,” Rus said dryly and took a sip of tea while Emma giggled. 

He nearly choked as Emma added casually, “So, are you going to tell me about your fellow now?”

Swallowing down his mouthful before he accidently spit it out, Rus hissed, “emma!” 

“You can, you know,” Emma said slyly. From her bag, Emma took a length of knitting, settling comfortably into her chair. “Mama told me it’s tradition to sit around gossiping while working on your needlepoint. I’ve brought my knitting and you have yours, and my gossip isn’t nearly so intriguing as yours. So then, tell me!” She lowered her voice secretively. “Is he very handsome, then?”

“i…” Rus began, swallowing hard. He hadn’t been able to tell anyone about Edge, not even a hint or a whisper, and when the opportunity had suddenly tumbled into his lap, Rus found he was desperate for a chance to talk about him. He couldn’t say much, but surely there were a few details he could share? A little gratefully, he blurted, “oh, yes! he’s very handsome and tall and…and strong, oh, you’ve no idea.”

“I’m sure I can guess,” Emma said, knowingly, “And you’ve put that strength to the test, have you?”

“emma!” 

“Oh, come now, you shan’t shock me!” Emma told him spiritedly. Her knitting needles flashed, their speed matching her temperament, “Mama has already given me a talking to, not that I needed it! I’ve seen cows and bulls in the field.”

“it’s not quite like that,” Rus muttered, heat warming his cheekbones.

“I should think not. To begin with, you haven’t any horns. Oh, do tell me more, Rus,” she begged, dropping her knitting to give him an imploring look. “Tell me something saucy! You haven’t been meeting with him only to admire his height.”

“no, but, i haven’t…we haven’t. not…not that. but he…he’s wonderful,” Rus blurted, and it wasn’t only embarrassment warming him, the memories were doing the job quite well, “he’s so gentle and careful, and when i was ill, he made me take a nap with my head on his lap.”

“That sounds lovely,” she sighed happily, then gave him a narrow look, nudging his ankle teasingly with the toe of her shoe. “But not very saucy.”

“he likes kissing,” Rus offered hesitantly, and Emma clapped happily.

“That’s more like it! A secret lover, oh, it’s so romantic!”

“no,” Rus said firmly, shaking his head. “romance would mean love and marriage and i won’t be having that, we both know it. it’s…it’s more lustful, i supposed, that’s so sinful, but it’s true.” He made an unhappy warding sign, to beg forgiveness for his sins. 

She nodded, a trifle disappointed, “I’m sorry, you’re right, you’ve told me. Well, then, as your friend I’m supposed to be encouraging you to have fun!” She gave him a naughty wink. “So be sure you’re having it.”

“not for much longer. i think…i think tomorrow may be the last time we are…together,” Rus muttered. His soul ached but there was no point in denying it, was there? The snowfall was going to put an end to their meetings and even if Edge would be willing to begin again in the spring, how could he ever communicate it. There was chance, tiny as it was, but Rus wasn’t about to pin his hopes on it.

He could see the questions in Emma’s eyes, but she only nodded slowly. “I’m so sorry, Rus.”

“we haven’t…but i thought we could, at least once, but…i’m not sure what to do,” Rus admitted. He was blushing terribly, but he’d come this far, he may as well confess what he could. 

“I’m perhaps not the best person to ask,” Emma said, considering. Her hands moved nervously, tangling yarn around one of her fingers. “You know that my family goes to all the prayer meetings, everyone does, but Rus…” She hesitated, studying him, and then offered softly, “Sometimes, my father says things afterward.” 

Rus blinked in surprise. That was a curious thing, wasn’t it? He wouldn’t have expected blasphemy from anyone as kind a Dogamy, though Rus was sure he wasn’t one who should be judging. And anyway, Elder Smith played endlessly pious at all the prayer meetings but he and Emma both knew the truth of that. 

“emma, i’ll not say a word,” Rus promised, making a sign of promise over his soul. “you can tell me.”

Emma nodded, her eyes lowered as she whispered, “Sometimes, papa says its codswallop and mama, well, she agrees. She said to never let your fear of sin overwhelm your common sense.” She shook herself a little and met his gaze with a ferocity that took him aback. “Rus, I don’t know if seeing your fellow is in any way sensible, but if you’re safe…if you know you’re never to marry…shouldn’t you be able to…have that? Just once?” 

“It’s sinful,” Rus murmured, but then, so was simply going to the woods. Rus had plenty of forgiveness to beg for already, and that was the truth.

“Maybe,” Emma said, but her eyes told a different story. “Mama says sometimes you should let the sin take care of itself.”

That was far from any of the preaching he’d ever heard on the subject, and yet–

“i think…i think blue said something similar, when he was giving me a talking to,” Rus said, slowly, remembering. “he told me about preventing any little ones and i know that he said relations should be a pleasure, not just making children in the marriage bed. He certainly seemed to think so with—” Rus broke off, lowering his eye lights. It was disrespectful to speak the name of one who’d found peace with the Maker. Emma only nodded understandingly. 

“There you have it then! If you want to have relations with your fellow, then you should, but if you’d rather not, don’t let him pressure you, no matter how tall or handsome he is!” She glanced out the window and made a sound of dismay. “Oh, phooey, I should be getting home before I’m walking in the dark.”

It was later than he’d thought, and Rus hissed in dismay, quickly gathering up his crochet. Blue would be home soon, and the scarf would hardly be a surprise if he’d seen it barely started. He took it moment to stash it away before helping Emma on with her cloak. 

“Can I come back next week,” Emma asked hopefully as she tied on her scarf. “Mama promised to make crusty buns and we’ve some fresh apple butter I can bring along.”

Her quiet hope made a realization strike; Emma was as lonely as he was. Most of her days were spent working on the farm and helping her parents, she was hardly in town with her agemates, and while she might be far more marriageable than he was, it didn’t seem anyone was attempting to catch her eye. Not yet, anyway. 

“i’d like that,” Rus said honestly, and Emma beamed, lunging forward and giving him a hug that was tight enough to send his breath whooshing out of him. Everyone in the Dog family had some strength to them, Rus thought ruefully, but he returned the hug with every bit of his weaker strength. He wheezed out, “but you needn’t bring a bribe every time you come to our porch, i’ll not leave you standing in the snow.”

“Nonsense, every bribe I bring, I get to enjoy as well,” Emma said cheerfully. Her expression grew somber as she added, “Just promise me you’ll be careful, Rus? I haven’t a guess who your mystery fellow is, so I’m not able to judge, and I can’t fathom why he’s not able to marry you, but I hope his reasons are good ones. I want gossip, not confessions, all right? You’d best not have a bruise on you when I see you next!”

“I promise,” Rus told her. With a last cheery wave, Emma walked out into the lightly fallen snow and Rus watched her go. Knowing he had a friend to chat with next week was helping take a bit of the sting out of his knowledge that he’d be losing Edge all too soon, with nothing left but a hope for spring. 

Maybe he still hadn’t made a decision about tomorrow, but Emma had helped him clear his thoughts. Like the sin, it would have to take care of itself, Rus decided with a mental sigh. Whatever happened, Edge had made it clear over the past weeks that the choice was his. 

Now he only needed to make it. 

-tbc-


	9. Sable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled so much with this chapter, ugh, sorry that it took so long to get it out.

* * *

It was much later in the morning than Rus had meant when he came downstairs that Wednesday. He’d meant to have his chores done and on his way to the woods before Blue had awoken.

He hadn’t counted on not being able to sleep, tossing and turning far into the night while fretting over what he would do today. The decision hadn't been made by the time he fell into a fitful sleep and it was the light spilling in through his window that had awoken him.

A dismal light, to be sure, the sky was gray and overcast as Rus quickly cared for the livestock before going to the kitchen to breakfast with his brother. He had little enough excuse to beg off and the frown on Blue’s face as he came in made his soul clench.

“I’m not sure you should be going out in this, brother,” Blue looked out the window at the sky, his brow furrowed with concern. “It could be a storm is coming.”

“this will be the last time, though,” Rus pleaded. “i know winter is upon us, i won’t stay out late. but i’ll be inside most of the season. please, brother, i promise! only once more?”

Blue still hesitated and Rus waited to see if he’d forbid him from going, already guiltily knowing it wouldn’t make a difference. Whatever Blue decreed, he would still go. He would have all winter for his brother to forgive him.

Picturing the coming season made him weary. He rarely left the house on the coldest days, leaving only long enough for chores. Maybe Emma would visit him, on the rare occasion as the weather allowed it? She seemed keen to speak again. Otherwise he would be alone, waiting for his brother to return from town, knitting while listening to the wind blowing. And wondering about Edge, if he was all right, if he was surviving in the dreaded woods with the trees nothing but icy dead branches and no easy food to be had.

“All right,” Blue said at last, interrupting the downward spiral of his thoughts. “Go out and play your little games. So long as you bundle up well!”

“thank you, brother,” Rus pressed a reckless kiss to the top of his brother’s skull and earned a startled laugh before he was shooed away.

“Off with you then, you silly thing,” Blue scolded, “and if you start to feel chilled, come home straight away!”

“i will,” Rus called, winding on his scarf and pulling on his old mittens. He’d change them for the gloves Edge had given him once he was in the woods.

For now, he set aside the turmoil of his thoughts and focused on the walk.

* * *

Blue hadn’t been entirely wrong; with the biting wind it was bitterly cold, and Rus could feel the pinch of it at his toes even through his fur-lined boots.

At least his new gloves were warm, surprisingly so, and Rus marveled that such thin, supple leather could hold in heat so well. It had to be the way Edge made them, though Rus couldn’t see anything particularly unusual in the sewing, past the pretty symbols that were embroidered at the wrists.

Rus lifted his wrist to his own mouth and pressed a silly kiss to the symbols, the same way Edge always did. Soon enough he wouldn’t dare wear these gloves, so he may as well appreciate the lovely warmth while he could. 

Their clearing was in sight and Rus slowed, nervousness rising. He knew what he wanted, he could be honest enough with himself to admit that. He did want Edge, wanted to know him in the intimate way that only lovers could and yet, even with Emma’s encouragement, he couldn’t help that twisting sense of fear. 

The entirety of his life, he’d been told this was a sin outside the marriage bed, no matter that Blue insisted it was a pleasure to be shared with a spouse. And yet, so was simply being here in the woods, Rus already had sins atop of sins, what was one more when it came time to beg forgiveness?

A flash of red caught his eye and Rus smiled to himself, that the very sight didn’t choke him with fear. Forbidden the color still may be, but on Edge, it was growing to a comfort. 

Stepping in to the clearing, Rus faltered, his smile fading. Edge was there, true, but with him was something he’d never had before. Leaning against one of the trees was a large pack, well bundled with supplies. At the top, Rus could see a glimpse of the quilt he’d given Edge, neatly folded in with various furs.

It confirmed what he already knew. The leaves had fallen, the snow was coming, and Edge was moving on. He was leaving and this brief, borrowed moment in Rus’s life was coming to an end. 

In that moment, Rus shoved his fear aside and made his choice. The undeniable proof decided it for him. If he only had this once chance, he was going to take it.

Unbidden, tears were welling, and Edge’s warm expression of greeting turned to one of alarm.

“Rus?” he ventured, with such gentleness. Always, he had been so gentle, so careful, and they dared call him a Monster of the wood?

Rus lifted his chin in defiance and stepped in close, summoning all his daring as he pressed their mouths together in a firm kiss. He felt Edge inhale sharply, felt his surprise, but Rus was determined. 

Gathering his courage, Rus slipped a hand downward to press between Edge’s legs, curving his palm against the hard bulge he found there. The sound Edge made was tantalizing, a low, growling moan, and suddenly his mouth was eager, devouring against Rus’s own. 

In no time, Edge was lowering him, and Rus braced himself for the chill of the ground. His timing was poor enough, he should have found his courage while the weather was still fair. He didn’t care, he’d made his choice and Rus was determined to have this, if only once.

But instead of icy leaves and dirt, Rus found himself draped in Edge’s cloak. It couldn’t possibly be as large as it seemed, but he felt like he was wrapped in voluminous folds, cushioning him against the bare ground, and none of the chill wind was seeping in. 

Atop him, Edge looked down at him, searching his face with those crimson eye lights.

“yes,” Rus murmured, “oh, yes, please.”

It seemed that was all the confirmation Edge needed. Carefully, Edge plucked at the buttons and fastenings of his clothes, and Rus breathed through his nervousness, reminding himself that Edge had seen him bare before. He made quick work of Rus’s boots and trousers, slipping his fingers between his legs. The way they moved gently against him made Rus gasp, arching up. It felt as good as he remembered, that longing ache rising, and he spread his knees wider, urgently. “edge, oh…oh, yes. please, yes.”

This time when Edge settled between his legs and lowered his leggings, Rus only caught his shoulders and held on, trying in some feeble way to brace himself. The tip of his shaft brushed against him almost teasingly, then firmer, pressing into him. Rus caught his breath as Edge pushed inside him. The stretch of his body opening up to that inward press pinched a little, not quite painful but hardly as pleasant as he’d hoped.

“oh,” Rus breathed out, digging his fingers into Edge’s shoulders, desperate to hold on to something. He stared up sightlessly at the overcast sky as that pressure filled him, Edge pausing whenever he whimpered, then easing in deeper still. Tears were stinging in his sockets, would this never end? 

It seemed an eternity until Edge’s pelvis was tight to his. Rus could taste warm salt, his breath hitching.

“Rus.” The rough tenderness in Edge’s voice startled him. Gentle fingertips cupped his cheekbone, wiping away the dampness, and Rus looked up into his face. The warmth there, the concern, drew away some of his tension and the pain eased some as he relaxed. He still felt uncomfortably full and squirmed a bit, trying to relieve that pressure. Edge’s gasp was overshadowed by Rus’s choked cry at the surprising flare of pleasure and he clutched at Edge, squirming more, trying to catch that feeling again. 

Edge settled more of his weight on top of him, stilling his wriggling but before Rus could complain, he shifted against him, pulling out a little then pressing back inside. The slide of it seemed easier now, gliding into him, and Rus moaned, arching up into it hesitantly, wanting more. 

It seemed to be what Edge was waiting for. In no time he found a rhythm, his hips rocking as he moved, thrusting slowly into the slick welcome that Rus’s body was offering. The wet sound of their bodies coming together made heat rise in his cheek bones but how could he be embarrassed when it felt so good, pain forgotten in the wonder of rising pleasure.

This was not how he’d imagined it in the darkest part of the night, in his own bed as he touched himself and pretended it was other hands on him. The reality was so different; bundled up in a thick cloak of the forbidden color with the strange, visceral sensation of Edge moving inside him, his weight atop him. It wasn’t the sweet romance that Emma seemed to picture, it was sweaty and instinctive, made him want to writhe and cry out and beg for more. 

“oh!” Rus cried, pleasure rising, and heat flared in Edge’s eye lights. He pushed in a little harder, moving against him, and Rus clutched at him, rocking his hips up with shocking wantonness and oh, it felt good, it felt so good, the deep slide of Edge into him, that aching emptiness as he pulled out, only to be filled again. 

“Rus,” he groaned. He pushed himself up on one hand and reached between them with the other, his thumb a firm pressure at the crux of Rus’s legs, circling in the same driving rhythm as inside him. That building heat finally crested, and Rus clawed at Edge’s back with blunt fingertips, his knees jackknifing upward to clasp Edge’s hips. 

Edge’s own pleasure was obvious in the low, guttural sounds he made, groaning as he pushed in hard and held there. The sudden rush of wet heat inside him made Rus gasp, still trembling from his own peak even as Edge sagged against him. 

For a long moment there was nothing but ragged breathing between them, Edge’s weight growing uncomfortably heavy. Then Edge shifted, slowly withdrawing and Rus had to stifle a sound of discomfort. 

As Edge sat back on his heels to straighten his leggings, Rus reached for his own clothes awkwardly, pulling his trousers back on and wincing at the chill in them, damp from the snow. Now that it was done, he felt almost pleasantly sore between his legs and wetness was starting to trail down the insides of his femurs. A hot bath would likely cure both, but it wasn’t about to touch the ache that was settling into his soul.

Edge crouched back down next to him, his tunic and leggings back in place and Rus offered him a weak smile, hesitantly shifting to pull Edge’s cloak out from beneath him and handing it back. Guiltily, he suspected it would need washing. The thought didn’t seem to bother Edge, he only drew it carelessly back over his shoulders, reaching out to adjust Rus’s cloak more closely around him. 

“K’uhah,” Edge murmured with such tenderness that tears pricked Rus’s sockets. He was never going to learn what that word meant, Rus realized dismally. It would be set aside with the rest of his memories, taken out occasionally and idly considered, but he would never actually know. 

A hand circling Rus’s wrist, tugging gently, and with a watery sigh, Rus allowed Edge to pull him to his feet. The cold was starting to seep through his own cloak in a way it hadn’t managed with Edge’s and much as he didn’t want to leave, Edge was right. Time to end this. 

Only, Edge’s grip tugged him along, pulling him towards that pack and Rus followed for a few stumbling, baffled steps. 

“what are you—” Rus began, confused. He tried to pull away, but Edge’s grip tightened, minutely, tugging harder when Rus dug in his heels and forced him to stop. 

Edge stopped, turning back to him with a frown. He pulled again, gently, saying encouragingly, “Edge and Rus, home.”

“home, yes, i need to go home,” Rus agreed and tried to pull free again, “that’s why you need to let go.” His grip didn’t lessen a bit, tight around Rus’s wrist. “home,” Rus persisted and pointed in the direction of the village.

If his grip had been firm before, now it felt like iron, and his eye lights blazed as he said, firmly, “No, no, no.”

“edge,” Rus pulled harder, panic starting to rise. “let me go, i need to go home.”

“Edge and Rus, home, leaf fall,” Edge said sharply. He twisted Rus’s hand around, turning it to tap a finger against the symbols at his wrist. 

And sudden understanding clicked in Rus’s head like a key in a lock. 

Oh, he was a fool, a complete, utter fool.

All this time, Edge had been _courting_ him, bringing him food and gifts, and if Rus had been paying the slightest bit of attention, he would have recognized it. Hadn’t Emma even sighed over the romance of it all and here he was, foolishly imagining that Edge had wanted a tryst when what he was after was a spouse. And now Edge thought Rus was going with him.

Frantically, he tugged against Edge’s hand, trying uselessly to pull free. 

“i…i didn't know, i'm sorry!” Rus pleaded. “let me go, please, i can’t—” Panic was taking hold, rising up in him, and Edge had never held him like this, never forced him, and now he wasn't letting go, he wasn't--

“Stop!"

Rus slowly stilled as that word filtered through his panic. He stared at Edge in teary bewilderment, "what...what did you say?"

“Stop,” Edge told him. “Stop.” He didn’t let go of Rus’s wrist, but pressed his free hand gently over Rus’s sternum, the red of his glove stark against the saffron of Rus’s cloak. His voice was deep, thick, as he said, softly. “Love. Rus, love.”

“how do you even know that word? you don't love me, you barely know me! let me go,” he sobbed, resisting. He needed to get home, he needed to be with his brother, he couldn’t stay here, he couldn’t…!

“Rus…” Edge shook him lightly, until Rus gave in, sagging against him, tears streaming. He felt Edge sigh, the rasp of his breath, then he finally said, “Rus, no go.“ Edge mimicked letting him go, though his grip didn’t lesson. “No...” he grimaced, struggling, “...run? No run.”

“i won't run, now let me go!”

“No run,” Edge warned, and let him go. Rus snatched back his hand, cradling his aching wrist as he staggered back a few steps. Edge made no move to stop him, though he watched warily. 

“you know more of my language than you've been letting on, you...you sneak!” Rus hissed, glaring at him through a tear-filled gaze. 

Edge shrugged, unapologetically and fury was starting to outdistance Rus’s fear.

“how much do you understand?” Rus demanded. How much of his constant babbling had Edge understood?

Edge made a seesaw gesture with his hand and that alone certainly meant he understood enough, more than Rus ever could have guessed. All this time, Edge had understood more than he was letting on, it was as good as a lie, and—

“wait, _how_ do you understand?” Rus asked, suspiciously. 

Edge waved that away with obvious irritation, and instead returned, persistently, “Rus, Edge home.”

Rus swallowed hard. Much as Edge had understood, it seemed that much had been unclear between them. “i can't go with you. i can’t.”

Edge moved slowly, giving Rus a chance to back away as he came closer, and even in his fear and anger, Rus tearfully noted his gentleness. He couldn’t stay, but oh, some part of him wished…

Cautiously, Edge stepped up to him and reached out, patting Rus’s front and when Rus only stared in bewilderment, Edge curved his hand over the front of his shirt to mimic a belly, what…oh. Rus’s soul dropped, aching. 

"no,” Rus shook his head, “no babies. i...i can't. i can’t have babies. no babies."

He saw the moment Edge understood, his eye lights widening. Now he knew Rus could never give him children, there would be no babies for them.

Well, now that Edge knew he was...he was defective, at least Edge would let him go home. 

Except, he only sighed and seemed more disgruntled that Rus had countered his argument than upset.

At least it was a blatant reminder to have a cup of slippery elm tea when he returned home. Edge might have been hoping he was here to breed him a litter of little forest creatures but that was not possible.

When Edge reached out again, Rus flinched, staggering half a step back, away from him.

Edge held up his hands, then, and didn’t try to hold him again, "No, no, no," he soothed. "Rus. Home, yes? Home."

A little wildly, Rus nodded. "home, yes, i need to go home, to my village."

He nodded slowly and Rus wished he didn’t recognize the pain in his eye lights. This was his fault, entirely, his foolishness in not considering what Edge might be seeking out of meeting with him. Selfishly, he’d thought only of himself and in the end, Edge was the one to suffer for it.

“i’m so sorry,” Rus whispered, wiping fruitlessly at the tears that were streaming down his cheek bones. He started stripping off the gloves, thinking to return them, only to have Edge stop him, lifting one hand to press a kiss against those symbols as he had before and now Rus was weeping in earnest. 

Edge only sighed and drew away, reaching into his pack. He pulled out a cloth and at first Rus thought he was offering him a handkerchief of some sort. But no, it was leather, Rus saw, a circle of it, and there were symbols drawn on it. 

A map, Rus realized with a jolt. There were little hooked points on one part Rus thought was meant to be the village. Edge pointed at a spot where there was what seemed to be a large, twisted tree that Rus recognized as a distinctive one on the outskirts of Dogamy's farm. He tapped a spot on the other side, a strange rock formation. Rumors and stories had always told of caves in those hills where creatures dwelled. "Edge home."

"edge home," Rus repeated, tapping it as well. "you're going there, for the winter, aren't you, where the caves are." 

"Edge home." he agreed. He seemed to be waiting, patiently, until Rus came to a dawning conclusion. 

“you…you still want me to visit?” he asked in disbelief. That seemed to be beyond Edge’s skills in language and Rus tried again, tapping the map and then laying a hand on his chest. “rus? here?”

“Rus, yes.” Edge nodded, seemingly relieved. 

“i…perhaps? it depends on the weather i…i don’t know how to tell you this,” Rus said weakly. 

It didn’t seem to matter. Edge left the little map in his hand and turned away, gathering up his pack. When he turned back to Rus, his expression was bleak. Gently, he traced a hand down Rus’s cheekbone, his gloves rasping softly against the bone. 

“Love?” he asked and the wistfulness in it near broke Rus’s heart.

“i…i’m sorry,” he said again, helplessly. He couldn’t, he couldn’t. Not this, not what Edge was asking of him. His home was in the village with his brother, the woods were not for him. The escape they offered was brief and stolen; it was not something that he could keep. 

Edge’s hand fell away and without another word, he turned away, trudging through the thin snow and leaving Rus standing alone, watching him until even the bright crimson of his cloak vanished from his sight.

Hastily, Rus swiped his tears angrily away on his sleeves. And what right did he have to stand here weeping when he’d hurt Edge so? He didn’t, that was a fact, and it was getting close to dusk. He needed to hurry home.

Despite his wishes, the tears refused to be staunched and he was nearly in the deserted barn before he remembered to strip off the gloves. For one moment, he buried his face into the warm, supple leather, the only thing he had left of Edge except the lingering ache between his legs, and that would fade in time. He tucked the gloves away, wiping his face fiercely, determined to stop his pathetic weeping lest he be forced to explain it to his brother. 

Enough, it was time to go home. It was what he wanted, after all.

Rus slipped out the front door of the barn and hardly took two steps before something caught his arm, far harder and crueler than Edge had ever touched him. 

“It’s true, then!” Came in a shout and Rus staggered as he was yanked forward, _shoved_ forward until he stumbled. “He’s been to the wood to couple with monsters!”

Wildly, Rus looked around and, to his terror, he saw he was surrounded by other villagers, their stony faces glaring at him, so many people that he knew, and…and his brother, his beloved face as stark as the others. 

“wait,” Rus began, desperately, unsure of what to say, of how to explain. He cried out as his arm was tugged again, viciously, and saw that it was Elder Smith who had a grip on him, shaking him roughly. 

“It’s as I told you,” he shouted. “I told you all that he was slipping out to the woods and here is the proof!”

“it’s not like that—” Rus tried, and pain exploded across his face. Rus cried out, falling to the ground. He stared up in shock as he held a hand to his bruised cheekbone, hardly daring to believe that Elder Smith had struck him, and no one offered a word of protest.

Not even his own brother.

“blue—" he started, desperately, turning to his brother. 

Elder Smith raised a hand again and Rus cringed back, “Shut your mouth, devil whore!”

“That’s enough!” Blues’ voice rang out then, though the coldness in it made fresh tears spring to Rus’s sockets. “I’ll not stand here and watch you beat him to no end! You’ll have your tribunal, back in town.”

“Very well,” Elder Smith said coldly. He nudged Rus bruisingly in the ribs with the pointed toe of his boot. “Get up.”

Haltingly, Rus did, staggering to his feet. He clutched his cloak around himself and walked, his head down and watching the road through blurred vision as the others crowded around him. Not a one of them came close enough to touch, not to offer comfort or even disgust. He dared to look at his brother’s back, several paces in front of him, but Blue spared him not a glance. 

Perhaps this was what he deserved, because Rus surely regretted now not staying in the wood.

* * *

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Rus, sweetie, you're in some trouble now...


	10. Blue on Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the village, Rus is alone, in more ways than one.

* * *

In the small, dark room that had become his prison, Rus curled up tighter beneath his thin blanket, trying to keep in whatever meager warmth it was providing. 

He had been locked into one of the storage rooms in the back of the prayer house and even with winter only just beginning it was already terribly cold. The stove in the other room hardly gave off enough heat to warm the main hall, much less any of the others. No doubt his guard was keeping close to it, he thought miserably. 

Men that he’d known all his life were watching over him in shifts with distant expressions, making warding signs against evil when twice a day they brought him the single bowl of thin, greasy broth and cold biscuit that amounted to his daily ration.

It was those meals that allowed him any knowledge in how long he’d been here in this dark room, with no windows to mark the passing time. Three days he’d been locked away without a clue as to what sentence would be passed down to him, without a chance to speak his piece, to explain. 

Not that he was eager to try. He’d hardly been able to offer a defense that first night. There was little point in denying their accusations with the evidence still on him. Coming from the wood, carrying gloves with a devil marks on them and crimson smears still drying on his femurs. 

Rus cringed into his blanket, remembering his shame as they stripped him bare in front of the Elders. He’d be bare still if it weren’t for his brother’s loud protests declaring there to be no point in a tribunal if they were planning to kill him from a chill the first night. It was the only time his brother had spoken the entire time and his eye lights had been averted, looking away from Rus’s shameful nakedness. 

At least they’d listened to him. Rus had been given little more than a rough shift and thin cotton trousers, along with woolen socks that were scratchy but at least warm. Paired with his blanket, he’d forgone the thin comfort of the mattress and instead curled as close to the door as he could where a little warmth came in from beneath. 

He supposed he should be grateful they were even proceeding with a tribunal with the evidence against him so damning. Knowing what was coming was awful, but it could not compare to the memory of his brother that night, so cold and distant, his normally bright, loving eye lights dimmed to ice. There was no way to describe Rus’s pain. His sins were not only his disgrace, they stained his brother as well. Could he blame Blue for casting him aside?

He should have gone with Edge, Rus thought, dully, and not for the first time. Whyever had he returned? He didn’t belong in the village, he never had. His brother was the only one who truly cared for him and even he had turned away. 

That left him alone with his sins, in the cold and dark, and Rus wished they would hurry and decide his fate. 

A heavy clank warned that someone was opening the door. Rus scooted away from it as quickly as he could, the hinges creaking as it swung open.

He cringed away from the candlelight, blinking as his sockets watered, and he squinted, trying to see who was coming in. A certain resignation settled in his soul. He’d already had his meals today, that likely meant whoever was paying him a visit might well be here to grant his wish. 

Shock cut through his dulled acceptance when he saw who was standing in the doorway. His own brother, with a candle in one hand and what seemed to be a cup and saucer in the other. 

“brother—” Rus said weakly. His voice was rusty with disuse; he’d had little opportunity or desire to speak since he’d been locked away. 

Only to have Blue thrust the cup and saucer at him, saying brusquely, “Drink this.”

Once, Rus wouldn’t have questioned it. He would have drunk whatever his brother gave him without a qualm, trusting him as he always had. Now he hesitated even as he greedily clutched the warm cup in his cold hands. They…they couldn’t possibly have sent his own brother to poison him…could they? He wanted to believe such a cruelty couldn’t be true, the Angel would never allow such a thing, and yet—

The guard was standing close to the door and Blue turned that cold gaze to him instead. Pointedly, he gestured at the door. “You’ll excuse us?”

He shifted on his feet, uncomfortably, “Elder Smith said—“

“And does Elder Smith’s words come from the Angel herself for you to obey?” Blue snapped impatiently. “I’ve known you since you spent most of your day with a finger stuck up your nose, Hiram, and your nappies sagging to the ground. Now, if you please, I’d like a moment to speak to my brother.”

Hiram flushed up to his eyebrows. Truthfully, he was hardly out of the striped shirts of childhood and into his saffron cloak, and still easily flustered by those he perceived as adults. Probably he’d been hopeful to spy Blue berating Rus and instead he’d gotten the rough side of Blue’s tongue himself for his troubles. He stepped back sullenly, shutting the door behind him. 

The moment it closed, Blue turned back to him. His gaze was softer, his eye lights wide in the dimness, and Rus might have wept to see it. “Go on, little brother,” he urged softly, “It’s only slippery elm tea. I expect you need it.”

A blush rose at the implication in that and Rus took a sip, grimacing at the bland, thin texture. But it was as his brother said, the taste comfortingly familiar and it was at least warm. 

Tears threatened again as Blue moved to sit next to him and said with pained sorrow, “Oh, the trouble you’ve gotten yourself into, little brother.”

“i’m sorry,” Rus croaked out. He couldn’t keep from leaning against Blue, closing his eyes as warm tears slipped free. “i’m so sorry.”

“I’m sure you are,” Blue said dryly. “When I suggested you find yourself a playmate, I didn’t intend for you to go searching in the forest to find one.”

“what?” Rus blurted out, shocked from sorrow. His miserable blush had only just faded and now it surged again with renewed heat. “you never did!”

“Oh, come now, I couldn’t have been clearer,” Blue said briskly. “Why else would I warn you how to prevent a babe? But that’s neither here nor there.” He leaned in close, cupping Rus’s face in his gentle hands and swept away the streak of tears with his thumb. “I’ve frightened you, haven’t I, child? I am sorry, but I couldn’t defend you as much as I wished in front of the others, else we’d both be locked away. One of us had to be outside these walls.”

Said that way, it made perfect sense, but still, Rus felt weak with relief. He hadn’t lost his brother’s love, after all. “And so they let you in to see me?

Blue’s sharp smile held no humor. “Well, the village has been without their only healer for a couple days now and I believe some of them are already rethinking their caution. It’s not as if anyone can easily replace me. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to an apprentice.”

“hardly that,” Rus protested, shivering. The one birthing he’d attended had sent him darting outside to lose his last meal in the weeds. “past a few small wounds and assisting you with making poultices, i’ve no skill for it.”

“Quite true,” Blue agreed. “Unfortunately for them, neither does anyone else in the village. That’s put them in a pretty pickle, to be sure.”

Rus nodded, setting aside his empty cup. “have they decided what to do with me, then?”

“Not exactly,” Blue took a deep breath and reached over, taking one of Rus’s cold hands in his. His hand was smaller than Rus’s, well known and well loved. These hands had cared for him his entire life, nursing him through every illness, teaching him, guiding him. Now it twined with his own fingers, gripping tightly. “Elder Smith is arguing that you should be put to death lest you bring all the creatures down upon us.”

“oh,” Rus said, his voice small. Perhaps his apathy was not yet complete, because fear trembled through him at that. Blue squeezed his hand encouragingly. 

“Some of the others worry that killing you would incur their wrath." He looked at Rus searchingly. "Would it?"

"no," Rus said, dully, "how would he even know? he’s not a creature or a monster, brother. he’s just a person. he would probably think i abandoned him.” And why wouldn’t he, Rus had effectively abandoned him before any of this had even begun. The memory of Edge’s pain only bolstered his own. Rus touched his cheek bone, wincing as he felt the lingering bruise there. “the only monster i know is elder smith.”

“I believe you,” Blue said softly. “I know you, little brother, you’d never care for someone unworthy of your affection. The tribunal will meet again tomorrow to make a decision and—”

The door handle rattle and Blue drew swiftly away, standing apart from Rus. 

Instead of Hiram, Elder Smith’s bulk filled the door, draped in the heavy folds of his cloak. He frowned darkly upon seeing Blue.

“You’re still here,” he said, staring at Blue, who met his sharp gaze with a leveling one of his own, his chin high. His eyes flicked briefly to Rus, who resisted the urge to cringe away. “I wish to speak to the prisoner.”

“Very well, speak to him,” Blue said shortly. They both stood unmoving, the air between them thick with tension. 

Elder Smith’s thick face twisted into a sneer. “I’d prefer to be alone.”

“No.”

That took him aback. “What?

“No,” Blue said calmly. He crossed his arms over his chest and his expression was not the cold informality of the past days but rather one of challenge. “I’ll not leave you alone with him. I know you, Elder Smith, better than you think. Would you claim he bewitched you? Tempted you to sin? If you’re bewitched, perhaps you should have your own cell.”

“You watch your tongue!” He snarled. Despite the cold of the room, beads of sweat were rising on his forehead, his doughy cheeks ruddy. 

“I am not a youth barely out of stripes to be frightened of the likes of you. You have been demanding for my heart to be condemned to die,” Blue said softly. “What possible thing, do you think, could you do to hurt me any worse? But I’ll not leave my brother to be raped by the likes of you.”

His nostrils flared at that, but he made no denial and Rus’s bones crawled, to think of this…this monster touching him as Edge had. There was no tenderness in that Man, no love, and the way he clenched his thick-fingered hands spoke of brutality and hate. How did no one else in the village see it? 

Elder Smith drew himself up with the dregs of dignity, saying tightly, “I came to ask your whore of a brother a question. Despite your foul implications, I am here as a member of the Tribunal.”

“Of course,” Blue bowed deeply and gesture to Rus, “Then ask him.”

“What is this?” Elder Smith drew something from his cloak and held it up. To Rus’s horror, it was the map that Edge had given him. To be fair, it wasn’t obvious as a map unless a person knew the markers. There was nothing to give anyone an idea of where Edge was and for that, Rus was willing to send a prayer of thanks to the Angel. Elder Smith stepped forward, loomed over him, leaning in closer and Rus tried not to cringe away, thinking desperately. 

“it’s…a drawing,” Rus blurted. “nothing more than a sketch.”

“Oh, is it?” Elder Smith snarled. He was close enough that Rus could smell the sourness of his sweat. “More of your devilry, is it? Perhaps this is how you summon your creatures to you?”

“no!” Rus snapped. He sat up straight, glaring at Elder Smith. He’d shamed Blue once, he wasn’t about to show his fear and shame him again. “it’s decorative and nothing more! there are no monsters in the wood, no creatures, none that i ever saw!”

“Says the one who came home dripping with their seed,” Elder Smith scoffed. Rus said nothing to that, he had no excuses for it. “Tell me then, do you swear it? On the soul of your mother?”

“yes!” Rus said, though it felt like acid on his tongue.

“He told you what it was,” Blue broke in, coldly. “Now get out.”

For a moment, Rus was worried that Elder Smith wouldn’t. He was larger than the both of them and Blue might be a much needed healer, but he hardly reached the middle of Elder Smith’s chest in height. There was no one there but the three of them, if he persisted, what could Blue possibly do?

Here in this darkened, cold room, with the flickering candle light casting wild shadows against the wall, Rus thought Elder Smith might be capable of far worse sins than any in the village could conceive. The moment dragged on and Rus braced himself against the wall, ready lunge away from in, to put himself in the Monster’s path. He was not going to hurt his brother, not if Rus could stop it, and surely the noise would bring Hiram running. 

Instead, Elder Smith turned away, stalking through the door, leaving them alone.

Trembling, Rus sagged back against the wall, thinking with dark ruefulness that at least he was no longer cold. Nearby, Blue heaved an exasperated sigh. “You are a terrible liar, little brother. I’ll return tomorrow, before the Tribunal.” 

He crouched down and hugged Rus tightly. Tears prickled as Rus returned that hug, clinging so tightly that he almost didn’t feel something falling into his lap. Blue made no mention of it, gathering up the teacup and knocking briskly on the door. He left without a backwards glance and perhaps Hiram didn’t notice that he’d left the candle because the door closed with it still inside, allowing Rus a little light for as long as the stubby cylinder of wax lasted. 

It was only after the door was firmly closed again and locked that Rus felt in the folds of the blanket, finding something smooth and heavy. He picked it up cautiously to find it was a sharpened bone, the end ground to a point so fine that when Rus touched it, it drew a bead of marrow.

He sucked absently on the end of his finger, clutching the bone within the folds of his blanket, and did not think about why his brother thought he might need it. 

tbc


	11. Midnight - part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the darkest hour, Rus is not as alone as he might wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please Read!**
> 
>  
> 
> This story is listed under 'author chooses not to use archive warnings.' I chose that tag because I wasn't sure at the time where this story would lead and how dark it might get. There was always potential and I wanted to leave that potential open. 
> 
> That said, I've changed the tags to reflect that there is attempted rape in this story, and it is in this chapter specifically. Since that tag was not originally in this story, I know that some readers might not be expecting it. There have always been darker themes, but I don't have any interest in triggering anyone. 
> 
> So, in an attempt to compromise, I'm splitting this chapter into two parts. The first part contains attempted rape. If anyone would like to skip that and move to the second part, I'll provide a brief synopsis of the first in non-graphic terms in the beginning notes.
> 
> That said, the second half of the chapter will be dealing with the aftermath. If that is also too much for any of my readers, I'll provide a brief chapter synopsis at the end notes of the second part, so that readers can continue the story without reading this chapter, if they want. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

* * *

The candle his brother left had long since burned out, but Rus was not asleep. He hadn’t even tried, only sat curled up in one corner of the rickety bed in his locked room, wrapped in his thin blanket. The tribunal was tomorrow, and the village Elders would judge him, decide his punishment. His fate was looming before him and Rus was not thinking of it. He was thinking of Edge, remembering.

Not that last meeting, no, not the pain on Edge’s face when he realized Rus would not go with him. Rus kept his sockets closed and remembered the times before that, the gentleness of his hands whenever Edge touched him. His nearly silent laughter, his tenderness when Rus had been ill. Even the way he cooked, sharing his food to offer Rus a filling meal. The sweetness of his kisses, the pleasure he so generously gave. They barely shared a language and yet, he always cared for Rus as best he could. 

It was for that they were punishing him. For consorting with Monsters, for whoring himself to demons, or so they called him. 

The sermons said he should repent for his sin and Rus supposed he should regret what he had done and found he couldn’t. Even if it had led him here, he didn’t regret or repent Edge.

But he wasn’t sure what he should do about tomorrow. 

Likely nothing he said or did would allow him leniency; with Elder Smith whispering poison in their ears coupled with the evidence of his own body, how could any of his brother’s protests save him? He was coming to accept that they couldn’t, and if he couldn’t erase the shame he’d brought on his brother with his actions, then at least he would accept whatever they decided without tears or begging. 

It would be as it would be. 

Still, he made a sign of protection, silently asking the Angel to look over him. 

But perhaps he’d lost Her grace after all. The sound of a key in the lock did not surprise him, nor the door swinging open, and Rus closed his sockets briefly, trying to brace himself for whatever was to come.

The lit candle only revealed shadows, but Rus knew who was here at this late hour. He clutched the sharpened bone his brother had given him tighter, until his fingers ached.

“get out,” Rus said loudly, hoping that his guard might overhear, might come inside as he had with Blue.

To no avail. Elder Smith only shut the door behind him. “I would speak to you without your brother meddling in our affairs.”

“we have nothing to discuss.” It was a struggle to keep his voice firm and the effort was a wasted one. Elder Smith set the candle on the small table in the corner where Rus took his meager meals and when he turned, the wavering light catching at his eyes made him look as though madness was taking hold of him. 

“You should listen to me, Rus.” He wet his thick lips and his piggish gaze on Rus made his bones crawl. “There is still a chance for you. I could talk to the tribunal, ask for leniency. If you tell them you repent your sins—"

He stepped forward, reaching out and Rus scrambled off the bed, backing away as far as he could in the small room. “don’t touch me.”

“Tell them you repent,” Smith went on doggedly as though Rus hadn’t spoken. Sweat was running down his face, glistening foul in the dimness. “I will help you, if you let me. Only let me, you must let me…"

“let you?” Rus laughed harshly. He kept his back to the wall, trying to keep out of reach. “yes, that’s what it would be. letting you have your way. is that what it would have been as your house boy? letting you?”

Smith’s lips peeled back and he bared yellowed teeth in a furious grimace. “Impertinent little whore. You’ve ensorcelled me, I know this. You’ve been spreading your legs for demons, gaining their power, and setting your snares for me!”

“i have no part in the filthiness in your mind! you dare to call me a sinner? a whore? the gods will strike you down,” Rus warned. He held the bone behind his back in a trembling grip. “have a care for your transgressions rather than mine!”

“I would have taken care of you,” Smith muttered. He seemed not to even hear Rus; whatever madness held him was raging like wildfire. “Instead, you filthy yourself with demons.”

Rus backed away until he could go no further, trapped between the wall and the table. “i have not! help!” he shouted, desperately. “help me, please! help—”

He cried out when Smith finally caught hold of him, shaking him roughly. 

“Be silent!” he hissed. “You’ll keep quiet or perhaps they’ll find tomorrow you’ve hung yourself from your shame.”

It was with pure desperation that Rus lashed out, the sharpened end of the bone sinking easily through cloth and the hot warmth of blood fell over his hands. But even as Smith thrust him away with a shrieking curse, Rus could see it was nothing more than a glancing blow cutting across his upper arm. Rus had never been strong and after days in this chilly room with little food, a killing blow was past him even if he’d had it in him to deal one. 

The force with which he was shoved back knocked the bone from his hand and it skittered away, sliding beneath the bed and out of reach. Smith touched the cut on his arm, staring as his fingers came away bloody. The madness in his eyes flared, leaving him looking as demonic as he accused the creatures of the forest of being. 

He was going to die here, Rus realized with cold, sinking fear. He was going to die, and the only question would be what violations he would suffer first. 

Frantically, Rus grabbed the candle and threw it at him. Smith howled as melted wax splattered him, but his upraised arms took the brunt of it. He dashed the candleholder to the ground and caught hold of Rus’s arm with a cruel hand, raising the other even as Rus tried to wrench away.

“Whore!” he snarled, and backhanded Rus across the face. He cried out as pain exploded across his cheekbone and only Smith’s grip on Rus’s arm kept him on his feet. He let go only to strike him again, sending him to the ground. Rough hands grappled him down and Rus fought desperately, half-blinded by pain, trying to cry out, perhaps someone could still hear him, surely—

Another blow landed, stunning him, and Rus gave up, sagging to the floor. 

His thoughts splintered, some part of him watching dispassionately as Smith crouched over him, still dripping blood and crumbling wax as he shoved Rus’s legs apart. He couldn’t fight him off, he never could, couldn’t stop him and there was no one to help. Not the Angel, not Edge, not even his brother.

Smith was atop him now, mouth open as he breathed heavily, slavering wetly down Rus’s collarbone, and foul sweat smeared from his face as he fumbled at Rus’s clothing with clumsy, bloodied hands. Rus only let himself settle into that numbness even as his trousers were yanked down his femurs. Perhaps he couldn’t stop this, but he didn’t have to be here for it. Let Smith seek out his own damnation on Rus’s bones; Rus would keep to his memories of Edge and the Angel would be welcoming him soon enough. 

Even as he sank into his own thoughts, that weight was abruptly gone. There was a loud snarl and Smith was flung against one of the walls. He collapsed heavily to the ground, laying like a bundle of rags. There was a thin streak of blood trailing down from his hairline, matching that which already splattered him. He moaned weakly and did not open his eyes.

-continued in next chapter-


	12. Midnight - part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter:
> 
> In the late night, Elder Smith came to Rus’s room, demanding that he repent his sins in exchange for leniency and implied relations with Smith. Rus refuses and Smith attacks him in a moment of anger and madness. 
> 
> While Rus is trying to fight him off and before Smith can commit his terrible act, an unknown person pulls Smith away and throws him into a wall, knocking him unconscious.

* * *

Rus stared uncomprehendingly where Smith lay, his befuddled thoughts unable to untangle what it meant. A hooded figure stood over him, covered from head to ankle in a black cloak and Rus cringed away, too frightened to even pull up his trousers.

“Easy, lad, I have you.” Gentle, furry hands helped him straighten his clothes. The last of his numbness faded to shock as he recognized that voice.

“dogamy?” Rus croaked out in disbelief.

“Aye. Told you I didn’t like the smell of that one, didn’t I?” Dogamy growled. His normally kind eyes were reddened as he glared at Smith. “I’d tear his throat out without so much as a gold piece to show for it, but you’d take the blame for it. Let’s be off.”

“wha-what are you doing?” Rus staggered to his feet, allowing Dogamy to draw him forward. 

“Rescuing you, aren’t I? We’ve no time, lad, let’s be off.” He shook out a long, dark cloak that matched his own and pulled it around Rus’s shoulders, covering him well. 

A glance at his bare feet earned a frown and Dogamy went over to Smith and gave him a cursory once over before roughly pulled off his boots, plopping them down in front of Rus. Thinking of wearing anything of his made nausea churn but there was no choice. He shoved his feet into the too-large boots and stumbled after Dogamy. 

In the outer room, Hiram sat slumped over in his chair, a rill of drool falling from one corner of his mouth as he snored. Rus didn’t dare ask, only followed Dogamy outside, where he led them through the village in a way that kept them far from the night lanterns. The moon’s light came through the clouds enough for them to find their way. 

They didn’t speak again until they reached the outskirts and there Rus paused, uncertainly.

“you…you don’t think i’m…tainted?” Rus whispered, wincing as his quiet words seemed to carry. Rus wanted to believe in Dogamy, wanted to follow him, but what if this was another trap, what if…

Dogamy snorted softly and shook his head. “I don’t hold with that superstitious claptrap, lad. You aren’t bewitched. Only besotted. Now come along, your brother is waiting.”

The mention of Blue helped him believe. Dogamy caught his elbow carefully at times to help him along until Rus felt less shaky on his feet. The both of them made their way silently through the darkness towards the road on the outskirts of town that led to Dogamy’s farm. 

“I’ve seen them you know,” Dogamy said softly. His eyes were nothing more than a gleam in the darkness, but somehow, Rus could still see kindness within them. “In my fields, once or twice, those red cloaks of theirs. I can’t say whether or not they are demons, but my fields didn’t go fallow and the cow’s milk never soured. If you say your suitor is a good fellow, then I believe you, lad.” He smiled then, his tongue lolling out, “My Emma’s had a thing or three to say on the subject since you were taken in, and that’s a fact.” 

A little way down the road was a concealing copse of trees and Rus saw a familiar wagon waiting, along with a short, hooded figure standing next to it. He almost sobbed aloud at the sight of his brother, stifling it with a desperate hand. 

Blue hurried over to them, hidden in his own dark cloak. “What took so long?”

“Had to deal with a little trouble. It was as you feared, Smith was paying our lad a visit.” Dogamy bared his teeth in a sharp grin. “I dealt with him.”

Blue didn’t seem perturbed by that implication, only turning to Rus to demand softly, “Are you all right?”

“he hit me, but nothing more. i’m all right,” Rus told him. Nothing would be served by admitting all that had happened, certainly not right now, and in the end, what injuries he had would heal. Eventually. 

Blue looked doubtful but he didn’t question, only reached up to touch Rus’s bruised cheek. “Foul bastard,” he hissed and spat on the ground, making a sign to ward off evil. “We’ll get some of my ointment on that, brother, but we must be off now.” He led the way back to the buckboard. “The tribunal was never going to be worth chancing, but I couldn’t say anything where it might be overheard. Our only option was to get you away from there.”

“what happened to hiram? and the night guard?” Rus asked, worriedly, even as he climbed into the back of the wagon, Dogamy close behind him. They’d seen no one as they’d made their escape and cold as they’d been to him, they were his neighbors. Hiram was little more than a foolish child, thoughtlessly obeying the Elders and Rus wished no true evil on him. 

“I dealt with that. A little extra seasoning in their dinner,” Blue said grimly, taking the reins. He clicked to the horse and the wagon lurched forward. “They'll wake with headaches, nothing more. I feared Elder Smith would try his hand yet, but I couldn’t find a way to stop him. I’m so sorry, child.”

“i’m fine,” Rus hugged his brother tightly from behind. He could feel him trembling, though whether it was tears or rage, he could not say. “i swear, i’m fine, brother. Dogamy stopped him.” 

He felt Blue relax somewhat at that. “All right, then, we need to be off.”

“Where are we going?” Rus settled into the back of the wagon, pulling his cloak tightly around himself against the cold.

“For now to Dogamy’s farm, but I’m afraid you can’t stay there, brother. There’s no place in the village safe for you now. If Smith wanted to hurt you before…” Blue trailed off and shook his head. “No matter. We’ve made up a pack for you.”

“Might need this as well, lad,” Dogamy dug into his pocket and pulled out a familiar leather scrap. “I know a map when I see one. Lucky chance that Smith did not, not that he’d know where you might head off to. Took a moment to liberate it from him, he’ll not be needing it.” 

Rus smoothed it over his knee. The moon cast its light over the little map, showing the symbols and shapes, along with the caves where Edge should be. 

“you want me to go into the woods?” Rus said, slowly. The others exchanged a look. 

“We thought…ah, we thought it would best if you could join your…” Blue faltered, turning from his seat on the buckboard to look back at them. “Is it not, brother, you must tell me.”

“i—” Rus swallowed hard, thinking of Edge, thinking of staying in the woods…thinking of returning to that dark, cold room, waiting for his fate to be decided for him. “yes, yes, it is.”

“Can you find him out there?” Blue asked urgently. “Your...your suitor?”

“i can.” He wasn’t sure but Blue was right. He couldn’t stay here and if he tried, he’d only put those he cared for in danger. Finding Edge would be his best chance and if he didn’t…if he couldn’t…it was still better than what would become of him here. 

The drive was not a long one and there was light seeping out through the cracks in the shutters when they arrived at Dogamy’s homestead. His feet were hardly on the ground when the door was flung open, a shadowed figure standing in the doorway calling to them softly. “Come in, come in, quickly now!”

Emma, Rus realized, and tears verged once more. He hadn’t thought to see Emma ever again and surely didn’t expect her reaction to him to be any more than the horror and disgust of the others. A certain shame filled him for his doubts as Emma gathered him up, guiding him through the door. 

“We haven’t much time,” Dogamy called in warning as he led the horse and wagon to the barn. 

“Unless they were nipping at your heels, we have a little time,” she countered. “Come along, Rus, let’s see to you.”

She led him to the kitchen where a towel was laid out and a large bowl half-filled with water. With a thick cloth, she picked up the kettle and poured hot water into the bowl.

“I thought you’d like to wash up,” Emma said tremulously. Tears stood out in her own eyes as she looked at Rus, her gaze sliding to where a bruise was certain to be standing out on his cheek bone, taking in the bloody spatters on his clothes. She looked away, clearing her throat briskly and setting a cake of soap by the basin. “And here are fresh clothes that your brother brought.”

“Thank you,” Rus croaked out. For the first time that night, his own tears escaped, trickling down his face. Emma made a soft, despairing sound and went to him, hugging him gently and he leaned into her embrace. 

“I’m your friend, remember?” she whispered fiercely. “And my papa wasn’t about to leave you there.” Her smile was not her normal sunny one, but it warmed Rus, nonetheless. “We’re a loyal lot. Now, wash up and I’ll get you something to eat, shall I?”

Bathing was a rushed affair, scrubbing the filth from his incarceration away, along with the feel of Elder Smith’s hands upon him, the traces of his blood. The soapy water was cleansing in more ways than one and the basin was grimy by the time he pushed it away. 

The feel of wearing his own clothes was a pleasure he’d not known existed before. He bundled into his warmest winter layers, then dug eagerly into the bowl of stew that Emma brought him, sopping up gravy with bread while she fussed around him, carefully dabbing ointment on his bruises and scrapes.

All too soon, Blue and Dogamy joined them, their grim expressions surely mirroring their emotions. Dogamy was carrying a pack that seemed to brim with gear, but not so much that Rus wouldn’t be able to manage it. 

Faint nausea churned but Rus only gave Emma a hug that she returned, whispering fiercely to him, “Take care of yourself, Rus.”

“i will,” he whispered back, stepping back and letting her flee the kitchen. 

“That cloak of yours is a good, heavy one,” Blue told him. He looked everywhere except at Rus, blinking hard as he held out a bundle. “And here’s a better pair of boots for you, along with some warmer socks.”

Rus took it from him and something fell to the ground. He reached down to pick it up. His gloves, Rus realized, the ones Edge had given him. 

“Thought you might need those as well,” Dogamy gave him a wolfish grin. Closing his sockets, Rus clutched them to his chest, too hard, his fingers aching. He brought them to his mouth, pressing a kiss against the symbols the way Edge did whenever they met. 

He would find Edge, he told himself as he slid them on. He would.

“Come on,” Blue told him and took his hand.

Bundled up against the cold, he followed Dogamy and his brother as they led the way to the outskirts of the fields. The trees of the orchard were spindly, bare limbs, the last of their autumn leaves already shed, and it was there that they stopped. 

With strength that Rus had never possessed, Blue pulled him down, hugging him tightly. Rus buried his face into his brother’s shoulder, inhaling the familiar sharp smells of herbs and poultices. His brother, who had raised him, had always cared for him, and now was sending him off. 

“In two weeks, you'll meet me back here in the orchards, little brother, if you can,” Blue whispered to him. “I'll bring you more supplies and give you any news.” He drew away, tears streaming. “He’ll care for you? Tell me he’ll care for you, brother, or I’ll join you now and we’ll make our way the best we can.”

He would, Rus knew, but that could not be allowed. He would find Edge or he wouldn’t, but this once, Rus was caring for his brother. He would not endanger him in the woods. 

"he’ll care for me," Rus said, softly. If he could find Edge, he would. Rus was sure of it. 

Dogamy stepped forward and handed Rus the pack “Find a place to hole up until dawn, aye? Don’t be wandering too long in the dark. There’s a few fire starters in here.” He tapped a small sack dangling on the outside. “Go far enough that you can’t be seen from my fields and then find a place to shelter. Gather yourself some wood and keep warm until morn.”

“i will,” Rus promised. He hesitated, then hugged Dogamy, clinging tightly. “thank you. for everything.”

“I’ve no need of thanks for helping a good lad like you,” Dogamy drew back, his muzzle crinkling. “And certainly not for putting stinking beast like Smith in his place. You take care of yourself, Rus.”

“take care of my brother,” Rus whispered to him and Dogamy nodded slightly. Rus believed him; a loyal lot, Emma called them, and they’d proved it tonight. Blue would be alone without him, but perhaps not lonely with Dogamy and his kin looking out for him.

Slinging the pack over his shoulder, Rus started towards the tree line, pausing only a moment to look back at his brother, his caretaker, his only kin.

“Two weeks,” Blue called to him and Rus raised a hand to him in a wave, then slowly clenched it into a fist as he turned away. 

In less than twenty steps, they were both out of sight. Rus walked on, following the moon straight into the woods. Once, the shadowed trees in front of him would have terrified him and it seemed a lifetime ago that Rus had fled these very woods, running as though demons were at his heels, ready to drag him to his death. 

Now he knew that evil was not a thing of the forest, but something that could be found anywhere. Rus walked on, pulling his cloak tightly around him and made a sign of protection, for him. For his soul. 

Whatever happened next, the Angel was the only one at his side. For now. 

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Synopsis:
> 
> After rescuing him from Smith, Dogamy leads Rus from his prison and takes him to where his brother is waiting. Dogamy and Blue have decided the woods are the only safe place for Rus now and that he needs to find Edge with the map that Dogamy retrieved for him. After a tearful reunion with Emma, Rus is given some supplies and led out to the border of the woods. He promises to meet his brother in the orchard in two-weeks time, if he can, for more supplies and any news, and then after asking Dogamy to look after his brother, he promises to find a safe place to hole up until dawn, when he can begin his search for Edge.


	13. Ebony Falling

* * *

Despite his heavy clothes, it seemed to take no time at all for the cold to begin seeping through to Rus’s bones. He pulled his cloak closer around him, ducking his head against the wind as he walked, making his slow way through the trees. The weight of the pack grew heavier with each step, but he knew he couldn’t stop, not yet. The thought of going back to that room where even now Elder Smith likely still lay in a heap was enough to shore up his determination and Rus kept walking.

Snowy leaves crunched underfoot, small sticks breaking as he passed. There was little hope of traveling silently in the woods even if it weren’t too dark to see where he was setting his feet. Where once moonlight came through the branches, now her luminous face was hidden by clouds. Rus stood in true darkness and tried not to be afraid.

Was this far enough away? He couldn’t be sure, the cold was starting to steal away his sense and finally, Rus thought he’d best stop for the night. Dogamy had warned him against traveling too far in the darkness and if he got turned around, he may well be walking back towards the village rather than away from it. 

With a little searching, he found a tree with a large hollow at the base. He set his pack within it while he scraped away leaves from the base with his gloved hands until he found bare ground. His fingers were numb by the time he’d cleared a decent spot and Rus shivered as he dug through the small sack for one of the fire starters. 

A few careful puffs of breath were enough for it to catch, and Rus carefully fed it twigs and kindling, huddling over the smudge of fire until he could feel his limbs again. Soon enough it was ready for larger fuel and in no little time Rus was sat by a decent campfire. He gathered enough wood to last the night, burrowing into the little hollow and as soon as he did, it began to snow. There was no point in being sour over it; Rus preferred to think of it as the Angel’s grace that the first flakes didn’t begin until he was bundled into his shelter for the night with his fire blazing. 

“at least i won’t die tonight,” Rus muttered to himself. The words sounded too loud in the hushed snowfall and he said nothing else, pulling his cloak more securely around him. Tomorrow morning, he’d get his bearings and head in the direction of the caves. A quick inventory of his pack revealed a compass, something he wished he’d known about earlier. Not that he would have been able to put it to much use; this was a good enough place to camp for tonight and tomorrow would have to look after itself. 

The caves should be within a day’s walking distance. He hoped. 

Rus settled in with a sigh, using his pack for a lumpy sort of pillow as he closed his eyes to get some sleep. There was a lot more walking ahead of him and Edge was still out there for him to find.

Edge.

Thinking of him made Rus’s soul twist unhappily and he wished he was as sure of his welcome as he’d allowed Blue to think. The map was proof that Edge wanted him to come, but what if he regretted giving it to him now? He’d come to their clearing expecting to leave with a spouse and to be so soundly rejected…Rus cringed, remembering his sobbing fear. 

It seemed ridiculous now and if he’d known what was waiting for him when he returned home…no. No, he wasn’t going to think of that, not any of it. His brother loved him, Dogamy and his kin held faith with him. It was enough, more than, and he needed to sleep, not to let his thoughts go twisting through the night until he was more exhausted than he’d started. 

He took a moment to add more brushwood to the fire, embers crackling and casting the trees around them in shadows. The flare of the rising flame cast its light far and it was only then that Rus saw it, too far out to be noticed without the wavering fireshine. 

At first, he took it for a fallen tree, a stump of some sort, but the longer he looked, the more he saw, and sinking cold fear settled into his chest. 

There was someone out there. 

They were tall and he could see the outline of a cloak. So many times these past weeks he’d journeyed into this wood, seeking out Edge, and those travels dimmed his memories of the village warnings, the rules. They came back to him full-force now. 

Villagers did not venture into the woods, not if they valued their lives and those of their kin. There were crimson-clad Monsters in these woods who would tear out your soul and devour it, and that Edge was not so did not make the stories untrue. 

He sat, frozen, watching that figure approach. Slowly the crimson came into view, the figure draped from head to ragged hem in the forbidden color and that face, the bony face of an animal stared at him from the edge of the clearing. 

Edge had such a mask; he’d worn it when they first met, carried it every other time, set to the side, its power revealed to be nothing more than a sham. The face that stared at him now was not Edge’s. He could see no reassuring eye lights, only hollowed caverns of darkness, the teeth stood out from a longer snout, sharper and more ferocious. 

The figure took a step closer to him and Rus’s fear broke. He scrambled to his feet and ran, branches clawing at him as he tore through the darkness. He could hear nothing but his own gasping breaths, the terror that throbbed in his skull, but he knew they were behind him, he knew, chasing him down and when they caught him, they would kill him, devour him, the woods would be his grave after all. 

Something scraped at his back that was not a tree limb, finding no purchase on the smooth blackness of his cloak, and fright gave Rus an extra burst of energy. He ran harder, stumbling through the trees, crying out as vicious limbs slapped at him, the trees conspiring against him. Until one caught his foot and sent him sprawling into the cold ground and even then, he scrambled to roll over, crawling away from the cloaked figure who stood before him. A large stone was at his back, leaving him no where else to go and Rus could only lay there, gasping for breath and staring up fearfully at this unknown threat.

The snow was falling around them, dusting them both in an illusion of wintery softness. The figure moved with terrifying swiftness, crouching over him, and the sound he made was like that of an animal, a rough, horrifying growl. Rus threw up his hands, uselessly shielding himself as best he could. 

And the creature paused. 

Rus opened his sockets, shivering in confusion as his hand was taken in a rough grip, gloved fingers tracing the symbols at his wrist. Edge’s symbols, he realized, and the creature seemed to be studying them closely, his growl abating to a low, curious hum. 

His courage was growing dangerously thin, but Rus managed to dredge up enough to ask, timidly, “do you…do you know edge?”

The creature’s head snapped up, his growl rising again in volume, and Rus cringed back again, swallowing back a whimper. He couldn’t bear this any long, he couldn’t, the fear he’d been living with these past days crested within him and something in his soul gave with an almost audible snap.

“kill me, then, and be done with it,” Rus whispered dully, with nothing more than distant regret that no one would know what became of him. 

He didn’t hear anything but that low growl, slowly rising again, not until the footsteps were almost upon them and suddenly, the creature was flung away from him, vicious snarls filling the air. 

Rus didn’t know what was happening. It was too dark to see, the falling snow obscuring everything, but he could hear. He drew up his legs, curling into himself and listened to the growls and snarls, the heavy sound of blows, and the sudden yelps of pain that turned into howls. He could hear those cries moving away, deeper into the woods, and then there were unsteady footsteps coming towards him. 

It took the last dregs of his feeble courage to look up and Rus nearly wept at what he saw. He knew that face. 

Edge stood next to him, the forbidden crimson of his eye lights glaring through the darkness. One arm clutching his ribs and his clothing was splattered with fresh blood. In that moment, he looked every bit a terrifying creature of the woods, a demon to be spoken about in hushed whispers, lest you be heard and they come to hunt.

Rus scrambled to his feet and threw himself into Edge’s arms. He was caught with a low grunt, one strong arm circling him and Rus buried his face into Edge’s shoulder, stifling his tears there. The familiar smell of woodsmoke and spice brought more tears, all his pain and fear of the last week burbling to the surface and Rus wept helplessly, hardly daring to believe he wasn’t lost in a dying dream. 

The gentle touch of a gloved hand on his skull belied that, the soft croon of unknown words as Edge held him close, comforting him despite his own wounds. With some effort, Rus drew away, sniffling as he looked up at Edge. 

“Rus?” Edge said, hoarsely. There was a question there but now was not the time nor the place for answers. Cold was creeping its way back in and Edge was injured. They needed a moment to take care of those problems before there could be any talk. 

“let’s go back to the fire?” Rus whispered. Edge nodded and they made their way back, far slower than Rus’s panicked flight. His path was easy to follow, trailing his footsteps back through the snow and his fire still burned merrily as they approached, uncaring what happened around it.

Edge allowed Rus to draw him down into the hollow of the tree, grimacing as he hunched over. But before Rus could look at his ribs, Edge frowned, raising a hand to Rus’s cheek bone, his fingertips hovering over the dark bruises there.

“yes, i suppose we’re both a little worse for the wear,” Rus agreed tiredly. “i’ll explain later, if i can. but you’re hurt, let me see?”

With an amusing amount of grudgingness, Edge did, letting Rus carefully draw up his tunic. He hissed at the sight of cracks in the bones, but they weren’t complete breaks. That was something to be grateful for, as there was nothing to bind them with. 

“i’m not the healer that my brother is,” Rus muttered, “so you’ll forgive me if this doesn’t work.” He closed his sockets, pressing a hand over the injury as he murmured a healing prayer. His hand warmed, better even than usual, not with his brother’s skill, but it was encouraging. Rus kept up his chant, whispering urgently, asking the healing to flow from the Angel through him. He could feel Edge’s breathing ease and when he opened his sockets again, the cracks were much improved. Pleased, he made a sign of thanks and only then did he see the way Edge was staring at him with something close to shock. 

“what?” Rus asked, a bit defensively. “i’m not terribly skilled, but very few are. the healing arts are beyond most people.”

Whatever his consternation, Edge shook it away. He straightened his clothing, reaching out again to Rus with a gentle, cautious touch. One that Rus ignored, throwing all caution to the wind and scrambling close to kiss him desperately, clutching at Edge wherever his hands could reach, hardly able to believe this was real. It seemed impossible that Edge could be here at this moment. Perhaps the Angel did hear his prayers, after all. 

However it was Edge came to find him didn’t matter, nothing mattered to Rus right now except that he was here. At first, Edge allowed the franticness, giving back equally to the greediness of Rus’s mouth. All too soon, though, he gentled the kisses, then pulled away entirely to draw Rus in close enough to drape his heavy cloak around them both. With a sigh, Rus sank into his embrace, settling his cheek bone against Edge’s chest and listened to the steady pulse of his soul.

Bundled in close with Edge’s arms around him was wonderfully warm despite the snow falling around them. The fire crackled nearby, bathing them in its glow, and for the first time what seemed a lifetime, Rus felt safe.

* * *

tbc


	14. Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a very long night, Rus wakes up to face a new morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning, there's a bit of a panic attack related to the attempted rape in a previous chapter. Nothing graphic is mentioned, but I like to give a heads up.

* * *

Rus woke cramped and sore, blinking confusedly at his surroundings. For a dizzying moment he didn’t know where he was, why he could see snow instead of walls and the sun was hinting at cresting the horizon right in front of him instead of through a window.

Then it all came back to him in a rush, everything that happened that horrible night; Elder Smith, Dogamy’s rescue, leaving his brother, and being attacked by a woods Monster only to be saved by Edge.

Edge.

Rus sat up straight, looking around wildly. There was no one in sight, only snow and trees. But a flash of crimson in his own lap caught his eye and Rus looked down to see he was covered in not only his own cloak, but Edge’s as well.

The fire had burned down in the night, but there were fresh logs upon it along with a crudely-made tripod where a small steaming pot hung suspended over the coals.

Relieved, Rus sank back into the little hollow of the tree. No desperate fever dream, then, Edge was surely close by. There were a few dark, stiff patches on Edge’s cloak, dried blood. Rus reached out timidly to touch one and caught sight of his gloves. He raised his wrist, studying the symbols woven there and remembered the other creature’s reaction at seeing them.

"i supposed i'm married now, after all," Rus murmured. Or something close to it. Even without a ceremony or so much as a jumped broom, it seemed these gloves marked him as being under Edge’s protection. No wonder Edge was cross when he caught Rus not wearing them before.

The deliberate sound of a twig snapping nearby made Rus look up to see Edge walking towards him. Without his harness and cloak, he seemed oddly taller, his tunic and trousers tight to his bones. In one hand, he held a brace of coneys, an unusual breakfast to Rus but his hunger didn’t care.

“Hello,” Edge said, solemnly, and Rus smiled helplessly.

“hello. oh, you must be freezing, here!” Rus tried to pull Edge’s cloak free from his own, but Edge crouched next to him, stopping him with a gentle touch and a shake of his head. “come now, it’s freezing! i’m right by the fire, i’m fine.”

Edge didn’t seem moved by his protests. He ducked his head, taking a soft kiss that Rus returned shyly. It felt different somehow, to think that they were married instead of meeting for an illicit tryst. He wondered with a tinge of discomfort if Edge would want more from him, if he would demand his spousal rights this morning.

But no, he broke the kiss, pausing to rub a gloved thumb lightly over Rus’s bruised cheek bone with a frown. Then he turned towards the fire, lifting the pot with a padded cloth. Carefully, he poured the steaming contents into a roughly hewn cup and held it out to Rus.

He took it warily, blowing on it to cool it before taking a tentative sip. It tasted strongly herbal, not unpleasantly, almost like golden flower tea. 

Edge poured another cup for himself, shifting to sit opposite of Rus in the hollow of the tree trunk. It seemed an odd contrast to be sitting in the woods with the gold of the rising sun sparkling over the snow while sipping tea like one sitting in a parlor.

It was almost surreal, honestly; he’d expected to spend a few days searching for Edge, how was it possible Edge found him instead? It sent an uneasy trill down his spine to think of it and a ridiculous idea occurred. Perhaps this was a dream after all, perhaps…perhaps he’d never left that imprisoning room, perhaps he’d imagined his rescue. A truly foolish thought, but one that he couldn’t shake. The dull ache on the side of his face seemed to belie that but how—?

"how are you here?” Rus blurted. Edge tilted his head to the side curiously and Rus tried again, thinking desperately at how to phrase it. “i mean, how did you find me? here?”

He gestured around them, and Edge’s expression cleared. With his free hand, he reached out and took Rus’s, turning it over and tapping the symbols at the wrists.

“my gloves?” Rus said doubtfully. As he watched, sockets widening, a faint glow rose from the symbols, gleaming rich crimson even in the dawn light.

“Mine,” Edge said simply, and Rus didn’t know if he meant the symbols, the glow, or simply Rus himself. 

“you knew i was in danger because of the gloves," Rus asked slowly. "um, danger. trouble? bad? That bad things were happening?”

Edge shook his head. He gestured around them, reaching behind to pat against the tree. “No, no, no. Here.”

"that i was here...that i was in the woods?"

That earned him a nod. 

"Trees." Edge smoothed his hand down the bark. "Trees speak."

"the trees told you i was here?" Rus said, skeptical and a bit amused. “i'll take your word on that; they’ve always been rather quiet with me.”

He blinked as Edge reached out and flicked the side of his skull lightly. “Rus hear more.”

It took a moment until it clicked, that Edge was telling him to open his ear holes like Blue had sometimes scolded him as a child. and then Rus was forced to stifle giggles because Edge had actually made a joke, by the stars! Irritating as it was to learn Edge was hiding the true extent of his understanding, it was something of a relief now.

Some of his uncertainty about all this was easing. Things would be strange and possibly frightening, Rus was certain, but it would be all right with Edge here. 

He hoped.

To his dismay, after their tea was finished, Edge made no move to cook anything else. Instead, he doused the fire in snow and packed away the little pot and cups in a pouch that he hung at his waist, the coneys hanging next to it. His thorny harness was next, lifted from where it sat by the tree like the skeleton of some unknown beast. Once it was secured, only then did Edge take his cloak. The spines protruded from it and when he settled his bony mask over his face, Rus couldn’t help a faint shiver.

Even knowing this was Edge, it brought back memories of the other Monster the night before. He wondered what had become of it, was it only wounded? Had Edge killed it?

Then Edge pushed his mask up to sit atop his skull, spoiling the illusion. He gave Rus a gentle smile and offered a hand down to pull him to his feet.

Rus wobbled for an embarrassingly long moment, his legs briefly refusing to cooperate. After all the walking the night before and sleeping curled up and cramped, his bones were vehemently protesting this unaccustomed abuse. He didn’t like to think at the bruises that lay beneath his trousers, but surely they only worsened the problem.

“i’m fine,” Rus protested, shaking away Edge’s steadying hands. He nearly toppled into the snow for his hubris, and ignored Edge’s huff of laughter as he took a few steps, unsteady as a new colt. “yes, this is all hilarious, i’m sure.”

When he was certain he wasn’t about to fall on his face, Rus turned back for his pack. Only to find it gone, already slung over Edge’s shoulder.

Well, that he wasn’t about to protest. Edge started off towards the rising sun and Rus stayed close to his heels. He cast a last uneasy look behind him, at the little clearing and the remains of the fire, at the village that he couldn’t see through the woods, so far away now.

Then he turned back to Edge and followed him.

* * *

Walking through snow, Rus learned, was nothing like his short treks through the wood during the summer and fall or the roads he traveled to town during past winters. To begin with, every step sent snow up nearly to his knee and his trousers were quickly damp. Pulling his foot back out needed to be done with care and more than once Rus lost a boot in the icy depths. Even his best footwear wasn’t made for this sort of travel, unlike Edge’s that cuffed over his knees, and his feet were soon damp as well.

It didn’t take him long to figure out it was easier to step into the holes left by Edge’s boots, but by then, Rus was already shivering, huddled into the heavy depths of his cloak for the meager warmth it provided. At least his hands were comfortably warm, safely encased in his gloves.

When his teeth began to chatter, Edge paused, turning back to him and one sweep of crimson eye lights over Rus made him frown. Rus yelped in surprise as he was scooped up and quickly carried through the snow to be sat on a fallen log. 

Whatever Edge was muttering beneath his breath had the tones of concern and annoyance.

He quickly stripped off Rus’s boots, inspecting the bones even as Rus squirmed against the worsened chill of his bare bones in the cold air. 

“that isn’t helping,” Rus complained as Edge cupped his heel in both gloved hands. Then he gasped as Edge leaned down and breathed over his foot, a wash of unexpected heat over the bones. “oh! how are you-ohhhh.”

Edge did it again, his breath was strangely, gloriously hot and soon Rus could feel his toes again. He repeated it on the other foot, then picked up his dripping boots.

Rus could only watch, dumbfounded, as Edge’s hands glowed, the same crimson as his eye lights and the symbols on Rus’s gloves. Steam rose from his boots and when Edge handed them back, Rus yelped and nearly dropped them from the startling heat.

“how did you—" Rus began, a low whisper and thoughtlessly, he made a warding sign against evil.

Crouched in front of him, Edge made a scoffing sound and mimicked the gesture mockingly. Well, maybe he was a devil after all, but if so, Rus never expected evil to be so sarcastic.

Once his boots were secured again on his feet, Rus started to hop down. Only to be swept up into Edge’s arms, held securely as Edge began walking again.

“you can’t carry me the entire way,” Rus protested, trying to squirm free. Not that Rus knew any such thing, but it was the principle of the matter. Edge stopped, glaring down at him. In answer, Rus only squirmed again. “put me down, i can manage!”

He squeaked as Edge’s grip tightened and he scolded, “No, no, no.”

Sulkily, Rus relaxed into Edge’s arms. “fine, have it your way. i hope your arms are sore tomorrow and don’t be asking me to help with it!”

But it was difficult to be cross when Edge ducked his head and buzzed a wet kiss against his cheek bone. Rus giggled helplessly, pushing him away and sank back into Edge’s arms with a sigh. There were certainly worse ways to travel, after all.

The rocking rhythm of Edge’s steps turned out to be terribly soothing and soon Rus was drowsing in his arms, listening to the crunch of snow and Edge’s breathing. All his traumas of the day before lay behind his eyes, waiting for him, but Rus pushed them aside as best he could.

Safe in Edge’s arms, he slept.

* * *

The sun was high overhead when Rus woke again, grumbling as he was firmly jostled. Disoriented, he blinked up to see Edge looking down at him, a brow bone raised.

“oh. are we there?” Rus asked muzzily. Wherever ‘there’ was. 

In answer, Edge’s lowered him to the ground, waiting as Rus again struggled for balance. When it was apparent that Rus wasn’t going to topple headfirst into the snow, Edge told him firmly. “Rus, stay. No run, yes?”

“yes, i’ll stay,” Rus agreed, warily. What in the name of the Angel was Edge getting them into?

That question was only somewhat answered when Edge called out in words that Rus didn’t understand. In front of them was nothing but trees and branches, so what…?

At first, he didn’t see it. It came slowly into focus the longer he looked; directly in front of them was a shelter of some sort hidden beneath a layer of snow and heavy branches. A door being flung open made it easier to see and a crimson-clad figure came out, tromping through the snow. 

Distantly, Rus thought Edge had the right of it warning him not to run, because if he hadn’t, Rus might well be over the next hill by now.

They were taller than Edge, looming over him, and a bone mask covered their face. Instead of eye lights, Rus could see eyes peering out through the holes, dark brown with snaps of red in the sclera.

Edge only met those eyes with his own fierce gaze and as Rus watched, the two of them made a series of complicated gestures. From his belt, Edge took the conies and held them up, unmoving as the other sniffed at his offering.

Then they turned and barked loudly towards the hut. The door opened again and two other figures approached. Both were shorter than the first and Rus caught his breath when he saw one of masks. 

It was the creature from the night before. One of the mask’s teeth had a distinct snaggletooth, one that Rus feared he would see in his dreams. Or nightmares.

Then he could only blink in disbelief as they pushed up their mask and revealed a person who resembled one from Dogamy’s line. His teeth were more jagged and the eyes dark instead of warm blue, but this one was hardly more than a boy, probably younger than Emma. There was a long, jagged cut across his muzzle, clotted with dried blood.

This was what had terrified him so last night? He was barely past childhood!

The tallest creature pushed up their own mask and their resemblance to Dogamy was even more uncanny. He said a harsh word to the boy, his pup, Rus suspected. 

The boy said nothing, even as Edge repeated the words. He took hold of Rus’s arm and held it up, pointing firmly at the symbols at his wrist.

The boy finally replied, sullenly, and his father slapped the back of his head with enough force to send his mask sliding back down. The last creature pushed up their mask to reveal a pretty female who began a scolding litany and while Rus couldn’t understand the words, he’d been on the wrong side of his brother’s temper enough times to guess what was being said. 

She took the boy by the ear, still scolding, and dragged him back to hut while he yelped.

When they were gone, the father turned back to Edge, bowing deeply with his arms crossed over his chest. Edge nodded curtly and, to Rus’s dismay, handed over the coneys. To his embarrassment, his soul gurgled hungrily, gaining him a set of twin amused looks.

Rus huffed. “well, i’m terribly sorry, i haven’t eaten since yesterday!”

Hunger crossed the language barrier, it seemed. Edge pointed towards the shelter, gesturing for Rus to go inside and nervously, he did, leaving Edge outside with the taller creature. Perhaps Rus could ask for his name so he could stop thinking of him as ‘creature.’

Rus had to brace a foot against the wall to pull open the heavy door, squeezing through it before it fell shut behind him.

It was cozily warm inside the shelter and much larger than it seemed outside where it was half buried in snow and branches. Above his head, Rus could see it was made of tightly woven branches and the floor was covered with heavy furs and colorful rugs, woven not only in crimson but purples and yellows.

By the door were boots and Rus hastily pulled off his own before stepping further inside. Circling the rounded wall were several bedrolls and the boy was laying on one, his head turned pointedly towards the wall. The female was standing in the middle next to what seemed to be a large, glowing stone, stirring a pot suspended over it.

Their masks were hung by the door. The skulls were less disturbing without eyes glaring out from them. 

The female looked up from the pot and gave him a gentle smile. She pointed to one of the bedrolls and Rus smiled gratefully, sitting down as she bustled over to him with a bowl, chattering happily and seeming unconcerned that Rus couldn’t answer.

The bowl was filled with some sort of thick soup and at her urging, Rus picked up the wooden spoon and took a bite. Nothing at all like his brother’s cooking, the spice was enough to make his sockets water, but it was certainly tasty, and his soul had no complaints, greedily accepting.

She knelt by him, handing him pieces of strange, flat bread between bites. It was chewy and mild, a good contrast to the soup and soon Rus was satisfied. Before he could even ask where to wash up, the bowl was whisked from his hands and carried back to the pot.

The door opened, Edge and the father stepping inside and in short order, Edge was sitting by him with a bowl of his own. 

The father and…mother? Rus supposed it made the most sense, each took a bowl of their own, though the mother took a moment to exclaim happily over the coneys. They ate in silence, all but the boy who Rus suspected was receiving a punishment equivalent to being sent to bed without supper.

When they were done and the mother had taken the dishes away, Edge took Rus by the hand, drawing him to his feet. Confused, he followed as Edge led him to the boy’s bedroll.

The boy rolled over at a quiet word from Edge, looking up at them warily. 

Edge took Rus’s hand and set it atop the boy’s muzzle over that nasty cut. He seemed to be struggling for a word, finally settling on, “Help?”

“help,” Rus repeated, realization dawning. “you want me to heal him? i…i can try, i’m not very good—"

Edge only nodded encouragingly, and the boy looked wary yet hopeful. It must be paining him and for all that he’d given Rus a terrible fright, his soul was a soft one and he couldn’t stand to see anyone hurting.

Closing his sockets, Rus focused on the wound, murmuring a prayer of healing. A faint sputter of warmth formed under his hand and, encouraged, Rus spoke louder, chanting as his brother did during a healing. That warmth grew gently as he asked the Angel to guide him, and when Rus finally opening his eyes, he was panting a bit, feeling drained.

When he lifted his hand, the wound was mostly gone, with only a pinkened crease remaining. The boy was trying to look at it with crossed eyes and he whined, tongue lolling out as he gave Rus a surprisingly winsome grin.

Hesitantly, Rus reached out, scruffing him behind the ear as he might have to one of Dogamy’s pups. The boy leaned happily into his hand, one foot twitching. 

Edge shifted to sit next to him and Rus glanced his way. His smile was soft and pleased, and Rus could only smile back. Not at all the healer his brother was, but not useless. Hopefully, he was showing that he would be able to pull his own weight.

He looked around the hut, at the cozy interior. A loom sat in one corner, one of those colorful rugs being worked, and he could see someone was doing leatherwork as well. From the woven ceiling hung bundles of herbs and the braided heads of wild onions, lending a spicy aroma to the air. Language barriers aside, this wouldn’t be a terrible place to spend the winter. There would be plenty of time to learn each other’s tongue in the coming months.

Things were looking up.

* * *

He had a chance to rethink that later in the night. The light from the strange, glowing stone was banked, the hut cast into darkness. On his bedroll, the boy was asleep, snoring enthusiastically, and on the far side, mostly out of sight but certainly not out of hearing, his parents were coupling.

The dim light cast wild shadows across the ceiling. Rus squeezed his sockets shut, curled up on a bedroll with Edge and trying to ignore the low grunts and softer, feminine cries across the way.

It was mortifying; how could they, knowing that Rus and Edge were so close by, never mind their son! He could barely recall the occasional thump from his brother’s room, long ago when…when he wasn’t a widower, but certainly nothing like this.

Edge was warm behind him, holding him close, and suddenly Rus wondered a bit wildly if he’d be expected to do the same. Every bit of his upbringing rejected that idea soundly; he couldn’t possibly. Edge had always been so gentle and understanding before, but they seemed to be married now. What would he do if Edge insisted? If…if he was like Elder Smith, if he—

No. No, Edge wouldn’t, he wouldn’t. But Rus was not certain and fear was starting to pulse in his soul.

He lay stiffly, listening as the grunts across from them picked up speed.

Edge shifted and Rus barely stifled a terrified whimper. He couldn’t stop shaking, his bones rattling faintly. Edge’s pelvis was close to his tailbone, his arm draped over Rus and it would be so very easy for him to pull Rus’s trousers down and have him. Certainly no one here would stop him; Rus’s gloves protected him but also marked him. He was Edge’s now, and he could do to Rus as he liked.

Very softly, Edge murmured in his auditory canal, “Rus?”

He flinched, trying not to crawl away because he couldn’t, he had nowhere else to go, but, but, he couldn’t do this, couldn’t have relations while others listened.

“no,” Rus gasped faintly. He could taste salt, tears seeping from his sockets. “p-please, no, not here.”

But if they were staying the winter here, he would have to, wouldn’t he. He wouldn’t have a choice, he couldn’t put it off, would have to obey his husband, he’d always been taught that a husband’s will must be his own. 

Edge’s hands moved, but not to the fastenings of Rus’s clothes. Very carefully, he shifted Rus to face him and Rus tried to brace himself, expected a mouth on his own or weight settling atop him. Instead, a strong hand cradled his skull and the other settled on Rus’s back as Edge pulled him into a gentle embrace, though not so tight that Rus couldn’t escape it if he wished.

“Shhh, k’uhah,” Edge soothed. His eye lights were the forbidden color, and yet, they were soft, gentle. “Shhhh. No, no, no.”

“no, no, no,” Rus repeated, low and thready, clinging desperately to those simple words.

“No, no, no,” Edge agreed, and Rus almost collapsed against him, still trembling. Time ticked by and Edge only held him, his hands did nothing untoward, didn’t grab or twist. Didn’t hurt.

He heard the others finishing in a flurry of low growls and gasps, and cringed deeper into Edge’s arms. Arms that only held him and demanded nothing.

Long moments of silence, of listening to Edge breathe. Very slowly, Edge moved to rest a gloved hand over Rus’s soul, murmuring “Love, Rus. Love.”

He’d said that before, and at the time Rus hadn’t wanted to hear it, focused on nothing but getting home to his brother. Now it soothed him, allowed him to inch closer, timidly curling up against Edge. Very softly, he whispered back, “love, edge.”

Deep in his ribcage, Edge rumbled out a contented sound, like a well satisfied cat and Rus was forced to stifle a giggle, finally relaxing against him. 

He should have known better. Edge had never given him any sign of cruelty or force. Even the first time they’d met had only been moments of fear, never harm. The supposedly terrible Monster of the Woods had only ever shown him kindness, which was more than Rus could say about his own people.

His struggle with Elder Smith seemed to have tainted him after all, with fear.

Stubbornly, Rus snuggled closer, settling in to sleep. He’d already lost his home, nearly lost his brother. He wasn’t about to allow Smith to take anything else from him.

* * *

tbc


End file.
